LIBRARY 

"SSSS* 

SAN  oteoo 


THE  STUMBLING   BLOCK 


A  NOVEL 


BY 

HENRY  H.  HARPER 


THIS  VOLUME  IS  J'UINTKI)  ONLY  JN  A  LIMITED  EDITION,  FOR 
«  OMPL1MENT.4RY  DISTRIBUTION  BY  THK  AUTHOR 


BOSTON— MDCDXII 


Copyright,  1912 

BY  HENRY  H.  HARPER 

All  rights  reserved 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  I  THE  WEDDING 

II  SOCIAL  AMBITIONS 

III  "My  FATHER  A  MURDERER!" 

IV  KITTY  BELLINGER 
V  THE  PANIC 

VI  AN  INTOLERABLE  SITUATION 

VII  THE  GOOD-BY  NOTE 

VIII  THE  MAN-HUNT 

IX  TOM  MAKES  A  DISCOVERY 

X  THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  SUICIDE 

XI  THE  VEILED  WOMAN  IN  THE  SHADOWS 

XII  THE  TURNING  POINT 

XIII  A  COZY  BREAKFAST  FOR  Two 

XIV  KITTY'S  VERSATILITY 
XV  THE  HAUNTED  CAVES 

XVI  THE  MYSTERIOUS  LETTER 

XVII  WHAT  THE  DEVIL   HATH   JOINED  TO 
GETHER 

XVIII  THE  FRUITS  OF  INFELICITY 

XIX  MRS.  FARNSWORTH'S  HUMILIATION 

XX  THINGS  LOOK  SUSPICIOUS  TO  TOM 

XXI  THE  NEWCOMERS 

XXII  THE  PRICE  OF  A  FRENCH  COUNT 

XXIII  BLIGHTED  HOPES  OF  SOCIAL  EMINENCE 

XXIV  THE  CONSOLIDATION 


CHAPTER  I 
THE  WEDDING 

Margaret  Benson's  early  childhood  was  spent  in  a 
small  town  in  the  western  part  of  New  York  State. 
Her  expressive  dark  eyes  and  rare  beauty  were  her 
sole  heritage  from  her  mother,  who  was  the  daughter 
of  a  distinguished  Kentucky  family.  From  her 
father,  of  whom  less  could  be  said,  she  inherited  the 
traits  that  were  ultimately  to  dominate  her  character 
and  disposition. 

Shortly  after  the  death  of  her  mother,  when  Mar 
garet  was  fourteen  years  old,  she  was  taken  to  New 
York  City  and  placed  in  charge  of  a  woman  who  con 
ducted  a  lodging  house  on  the  East  Side,  where  she 
attended  public  school.  She  saw  but  little  of  her 
father,  who  came  to  see  her  at  uncertain  intervals, 
and  she  knew  nothing  of  his  business  or  financial 
resources,  except  that  her  spending  money  was  very 
meagre,  and  the  amount  allowed  for  her  board  and 
clothes  only  covered  the  barest  necessaries.  Though 
only  fourteen  years  of  age  her  slender,  prematurely 
developed  stature  and  the  matureness  of  her  features 
gave  her  the  appearance  of  seventeen. 

There  being  no  other  children  at  her  boarding  place 
she  found  the  atmosphere  ill  suited  to  her  age  and 
temperament.  She  felt  keenly  the  loss  of  her  mother's 

7 


CHAPTER  ONE 

tender  care,  at  an  age  when  a  mother's  influence  and 
advice  are  such  important  needs  in  a  girl's  life,  and 
many  of  her  evenings  were  spent  in  tearful  retrospec 
tion  in  her  little  room  up  three  flights  of  uncarpeted 
stairs.  After  a  few  months  of  this  lonely  existence 
she  returned  home  from  school  one  afternoon  to  find  a 
well  dressed,  distinguished  looking  woman  waiting  for 
her  in  the  sitting  room. 

"You  are  Margaret  Benson?"  asked  the  woman,  as 
she  advanced  smilingly  with  outstretched  hand. 

"Yes,"  she  said  timidly. 

"And  I  am  Mrs.  Grayson-Howells.  I  was  a  girl 
hood  friend  of  your  mother,  and  my  sister  married  her 
brother;  so  you  see  I  am  your  aunt  by  marriage. 
Both  my  sister  and  her  husband  have  been  dead  for 
many  years.  On  returning  from  abroad  a  few  days 
ago  I  found  a  letter  from  your  father  telling  me  about 
you." 

"Oh,  then  you  know  my  father?" 

"No,  I  never  met  him,  but  I  knew  your  mother's 
family." 

"Yes,  I've  heard  my  mother  speak  of  you;  she  said 
how  rich  you  were,  while  she  —  poor  mother!"  she 
said,  as  the  tears  welled  in  her  eyes,  "she  was  so  un 
happy."  And  she  burst  into  sobs. 

"Yes,  poor  dear,  it  was  an  unkind  Fate  that  cut  her 
off  from  all  her  girlhood  associates.  I  never  saw  her 
after  she  married.  But  what  a  dear,  charming  child 

8 


THE   WEDDING 

you  are !     The  perfect  image  of  your  mother  as  I  first 
knew  her." 

"Oh,  thank  you,"  she  said  modestly.  "Please 
excuse  me  for  crying  —  but  I'm  so  lonesome  and  un 
happy  here,  with  no  children  around.  The  Saturdays 
and  Sundays  and  evenings  seem  so  long." 

"Yes,  poor  child,  I  know  you  must  be  unhappy"  - 
as  she  glanced  about  the  room  —  "but  you  shall  not 
remain  so  for  long.  I  am  just  opening  my  town  house 
for  the  holidays,  and  should  like  you  to  come  and  take 
luncheon  with  me  next  Saturday.  My  nephew  will  be 
home  from  college  and  spend  his  holiday  season  with 
me.  A  little  later  I  shall  close  my  town  house  and  go 
south  for  the  remainder  of  the  winter;  but  in  the 
meantime  I  hope  to  comply  with  your  father's  request 
and  find  you  a  home  with  some  friend. 

"Now,  goodby,  dear;  I  will  arrange  with  the  land 
lady  to  let  you  come,  and  will  send  my  carriage  for 
you  Saturday  morning  at  ten." 

When  she  had  gone  Margaret  hurried  up  to  her 
room,  wondering  what  kind  of  a  home  her  new  friend 
had,  and  how  she  could  afford  to  keep  a  home  that 
she  didn't  live  in  except  at  short  intervals.  She  was 
radiant  with  happiness  at  the  thought  of  dining  with 
her  mother's  aristocratic  girlhood  friend,  and  she  waited 
with  impatience  for  Saturday. 

The  carriage  was  waiting  at  the  appointed  time, 
and  on  arriving  at  the  Fifth  Avenue  home  of  Mrs. 


CHAPTER  ONE 

Grayson-Howells,  Margaret  was  introduced  to  Jeffer 
son  Dalney  Farnsworth,  a  young  man  of  nineteen, 
just  home  from  Cambridge,  and  spending  the  Christmas 
vacation  season  with  his  widowed  aunt.  He  was  an 
orphan,  and  the  sole  heir  to  a  large  estate  left  in  trust 
by  his  father,  to  be  turned  over  to  him  on  reaching 
maturity.  Jeff  had  a  keen  eye  for  the  beautiful  in 
femininity,  and  he  was  at  once  captivated  by  the 
simple  manners  and  remarkable  beauty  of  "Miss 
Benson,"  as  he  called  her  when  speaking  to  his  aunt 
about  her  after  she  had  gone. 

"By  George!  Aunt  Lucy,  if  she  doesn't  break  some 
body's  heart  it  won't  be  the  fault  of  that  pair  of  eyes 
of  hers,"  he  said. 

"Why,  Jeff,  she's  only  a  child,  scarcely  in  her  teens 
yet." 

"Oh,  come  now,  auntie,  don't  tell  me  that  — 
scarcely  out  of  her  teens,  you  mean." 

"I  ought  to  know;  her  mother  was  an  intimate 
friend  of  mine.  We  went  to  boarding  school  together 
sixteen  years  ago,  before  she  was  married  to  that 
scamp  of  a  Benson.  After  enduring  him  for  fifteen 
years  she  died  broken-hearted.  He  imposed  on  her 
relatives  and  friends,  and  cheated  your  uncle  and 
everybody  else  out  of  every  dollar  he  could  borrow 
from  them." 

"Just  the  same,  he  has  a  mighty  pretty  daughter," 
remarked  Jeff,  coming  gallantly  to  Margaret's  defence. 

10 


THE   WEDDING 

"Yes,  she's  as  much  like  her  mother  was  at  her  age 
as  two  people  could  be  alike.  It's  a  pity  she's  handi 
capped  by  such  a  father.  He  had  the  boldness  to 
write  to  me  and  ask  if  I  would  do  something  for 
Margaret  for  the  sake  of  my  friendship  for  her  dead 
mother.  I'll  gladly  help  Margaret,  but  only  on  con 
dition  that  he  keeps  entirely  away  from  her,  and  out 
of  my  sight." 

"Why  not  send  her  to  Miss  Hilton's  boarding 
school?"  inquired  Jeff,  who  was  manifesting  a  growing 
interest  in  the  affair.  "Then  tell  her  father  he  mustn't 
show  his  face  around  there,  or  he'll  get  it  broken." 

"But  Miss  Hilton's  is  a  very  expensive  school;  and 
then  I  don't  know  that  there's  a  vacancy." 

"Oh,  pshaw!  with  your  pull  you  could  get  her  in 
any  school  in  New  York  City." 

Callers  being  announced,  the  discussion  ended  ab 
ruptly.  During  the  evening  Jeff  seemed  lost  in  his 
own  meditations,  and  took  but  little  interest  in  the 
conversation.  Later,  when  their  friends  had  gone  he 
re-opened  the  matter  by  asking  abruptly  — 

"Say  —  Aunt  Lucy  —  will  you  do  me  a  favor?" 

"Yes,  Jeff,  —  what  is  it?"  as  she  looked  up  in 
surprise. 

"You  get  Miss  Benson  into  that  school,  and  have 
the  bills  sent  to  Mr.  Barton;  and  I'll  direct  him  to 
pay  them  on  my  account.  This  is  the  first  chance  I 
ever  had  to  do  a  decent  act,  and  I'd  like  to  take 

11 


CHAPTER  ONE 

advantage  of  it.  But  don't  let  her  know  that  I'm 
doing  it." 

"Why,  Jeff!  what  would  your  frugal  father  say  of 
such  munificence  if  he  were  living?" 

"Well,  he  was  always  mighty  good  to  me,  even  if  he 
was  sometimes  accused  of  being  close-fisted,  and  if 
there's  such  a  thing  as  a  hereafter,  I'd  like  to  make  his 
lot  a  little  easier  by  making  good  use  of  part  of  the 
money  he  left.  And  then  —  how  do  you  know  but  I 
have  some  selfish  motive?  I  don't  want  to  rob  you  of 
the  chance  of  doing  a  kind  act,  but  I  remember  a 
story  I  once  read  in  a  book,  and  I  just  want  to  see 
how  the  idea  will  work  out  in  real  life." 

"Very  well,  Jeff,  I'll  do  as  you  wish,"  she  said  after 
some  further  discussion,  "and  even  if  it  should  work 
out  badly,  you  will  at  least  have  done  a  generous  deed." 

Five  years  passed.  Margaret,  who  was  known  as 
one  of  the  most  beautiful  and  best  dressed  girls  in 
Miss  Hilton's  exclusive  boarding  school,  was  under  the 
sponsorship  and  chaperonage  of  Mrs.  Grayson-Howells. 
Young  Farnsworth,  after  receiving  his  degree  at  Har 
vard,  spent  a  year  traveling  abroad,  where  he  was  joined 
by  his  aunt  and  Margaret ;  and  before  returning  home 
the  engagement  of  the  young  couple  was  cabled  by  Mrs. 
Grayson-Howells  and  announced  in  the  New  York 
papers.  The  wedding,  which  took  place  shortly  ?.fter 
Margaret's  graduation  early  the  following  June,  was 

12 


THE   WEDDING 

heralded  far  and  wide  as  one  of  the  society  events  of  the 
season.  The  happy  pair  then  went  abroad  for  a  year. 

Jeff  succeeded  in  demonstrating  to  his  own  satis 
faction  that  the  story  he  read  in  earlier  years  could 
have  been  borrowed  from  life ;  for  the  hero  and  heroine 
therein,  after  many  misunderstandings  and  hair 
breadth  escapes  from  separation,  got  married  and 
"lived  happily  ever  after."  So  would  he  and  Margaret 
do  likewise,  but  minus  the  numerous  trials  and  vicissi 
tudes,  which  he  declared  to  his  aunt  were  merely 
"lugged  in  to  lengthen  out  the  story,"  and  were  no 
part  of  real  life. 

Margaret's  father  was  supposed — by  her — to  have 
become  a  wealthy  mine  operator  in  the  West,  and  to 
have  paid,  through  Stephen  Barton,  Trustee,  all  her 
lavish  expenses  during  her  four  years  at  school.  As  a 
matter  of  fact,  he  had  been  sent  away  out  West  and 
provided  with  expense  money,  while  prospecting  in 
the  mining  regions.  Shortly  after  Margaret's  engage 
ment  was  announced  —  of  which  fact  he  had  been 
advised  by  her  —  he  borrowed  a  large  sum  of  money 
from  young  Farnsworth  to  buy  some  promising  mining 
claims  he  had  rounded  up  in  Colorado.  Several  times 
he  had  been  in  New  York  and  seen  his  prospective  son- 
in-law,  but  had  always  gone  away  without  calling  on 
his  daughter,  though  in  her  letters,  sent  to  him  at  his 
western  address,  she  often  asked  why  he  never  came  to 
see  her. 

13 


CHAPTER  II 
SOCIAL  AMBITIONS 

After  an  absence  of  nearly  a  year  in  Europe  young 
Farnsworth  and  his  bride  returned  to  New  York  and 
proceeded  at  once  to  establish  themselves  in  a  home, 
and  to  make  preparations  for  a  coming  event  of  great 
domestic  importance.  It  was  a  boy,  christened 
Thomas,  after  its  paternal  grandfather ;  and  if  it  could 
be  said  that  it  were  possible  to  discover  any  one  con 
sideration  or  condition  that  would  add  to  the  happiness 
of  this  ideal  pair  of  lovers,  that  one  desideratum  was 
found  in  the  birth  of  a  son  and  heir,  cementing  their 
matrimonial  bonds  into  a  perfect  unit.  Health, 
wealth,  happiness,  and  social  position  all  smiled  in 
benign  unison  upon  the  family  trio.  As  the  proud 
husband  and  father  stood  by  the  bedside  of  the  con 
valescing  young  mother  and  gazed  into  her  lustrous 
dark  eyes,  fringed  by  their  long  lashes,  contrasting 
sharply  with  the  slight  pallor  of  her  cheeks,  and  thought 
of  ihe  complete  happiness  she  had  brought  him,  his 
cup  seemed  full  to  overflowing. 

To  his  aunt  he  had  remarked  :"I  tell  you,  Aunt  Lucy, 
the  thing  to  do  is  to  pick  out  a  wife  when  she's  in  her 
early  teens,  and  have  her  educated  and  brought  up 
according  to  your  own  ideas.  Then  when  you  get 
married  you  know  just  what  you've  got.  These  hasty 

14 


SOCIAL   AMBITIONS 

marriages  among  persons  who  neither  know  nor  under 
stand  each  other  too  often  result  in  disagreements 
and  divorces.  Margaret's  a  good,  sensible  girl  —  not 
one  of  those  flippant  society  debutantes  with  their 
minds  filled  with  nothing  but  society  chatter." 

But  in  reasoning  thus  the  young  philosopher  failed 
to  consider  two  important  facts:  that  his  wife  was  of 
the  flesh  and  blood  of  William  Benson;  and  that  she 
was  soon  to  be  cast  into  the  maelstrom  of  a  social 
stratum  for  which  her  ambition  and  physical  charms 
were  her  only  inherent  qualifications.  For  those  who 
are  born  and  brought  up  in  this  social  atmosphere, 
love,  marriage  and  maternal  cares  are  often  hailed  as 
a  welcome  diversion ;  but  a  beautiful,  unsophisticated 
young  woman  of  Margaret's  temperament  who  marries 
into  the  social  whirl  must  have  a  better  balanced  mind 
than  hers  in  order  to  withstand  the  influences  of  such 
environments  and  not  be  led  astray  by  flatteries  and 
vanities.  The  moment  the  breezes  of  the  new  social 
realms  inflated  her  sails,  even  with  her  indulgent  hus 
band  as  helmsman,  she  was  like  a  yacht  cast  adrift 
without  a  rudder. 

She  found  that  many  of  her  newly  made  acquaint 
ances,  though  older  than  she  in  years,  were  much 
younger  in  actions,  and  still  enjoying  their  girlhood 
freedom.  Very  few  even  of  those  who  were  married 
were  encumbered  with  maternal  cares.  At  the  after 
noon  affairs  the  matrons  discussed  their  "lines"  and 

15 


CHAPTER  TWO 

figure  measurements,  and  remarked  how  damaging  to 
these  was  the  bearing  of  children  early  in  life.  She 
surveyed  her  own  still  girlish  figure  in  the  large  mirror, 
and  resolutely  decided  to  take  no  more  chances  on 
this  score. 

The  baby  was  turned  over  to  the  exclusive  care  of 
those  in  charge  of  the  nursery,  and  every  time  she 
looked  at  it  she  thought  how  its  advent  into  the  world 
might  have  ruined  her  figure!  At  first  the  baby  had 
furnished  almost  the  sole  topic  of  conversation  with 
her  acquaintances,  but  later  it  was  seldom  inquired 
after  by  them,  and  never  referred  to  by  her.  If  the 
nursery  door  happened  to  be  ajar  and  she  heard  it  cry, 
it  irritated  her.  Shortly  after  she  began  going  out  in 
society  she  remarked  one  evening  to  her  husband,  - 

"Dalney,  do  you  know,  I  think  it's  a  shame,  I  never 
even  had  a  coming-out  party." 

"Never  mind,  dear,"  as  he  pulled  her  down  into  his 
lap,  "you  are  none  the  worse  for  it.  You're  'out'  now. 
If  a  coming-out  party  had  made  you  any  more  popular 
than  you  are  I'd  scarcely  get  a  chance  to  see  you  at 
all.  You  see  we  were  married  so  soon  after  you 
graduated  that  we  didn't  have  time  for  such  formali 
ties.  I  was  so  crazy  in  love  with  you  that  I  couldn't 
have  thought  of  waiting  over  another  season." 

"Yes,  that's  it;"  she  said  as  she  freed  herself  from 
his  embrace  and  got  up,  "you  should  have  considered 
those  matters.  Look  at  Edna  Hertz;  she  made  a 

16 


SOCIAL   AMBITIONS 

grand  debut,  and  now  she's  abroad  being  courted  by  a 
nobleman.     And  her  father  hasn't  any  more  money 
than  mine  has.     She  didn't  have  half  the  spending 
money  at  school  that  I  had.     Then  she's  homely,  too  — 
compared  with  me,"  she  pouted.     "If  I  had  only  — •" 

"Why,  Midge!  what  has  come  over  you?  Do  you 
know  what  you're  saying?"  as  he  sprang  to  his  feet 
with  an  agonized  look  in  his  face. 

"Oh,  please  forgive  me,  Dalney,"  as  she  put  her 
arms  about  his  neck,  and  snuggled  close  up  to  his 
breast  to  avoid  his  astonished  gaze.  "I  really  don't 
know  what  I  was  saying,  or  thinking  about.  I'm  not 
at  all  well;  I'm  feverish  and  my  head  is  killing  me 
tonight,"  she  complained,  for  the  first  time  during  the 
evening. 

"I  don't  believe  my  little  wife  has  been  quite  herself 
for  some  time,"  he  said  sympathetically,  as  he  placed 
his  hand  caressingly  on  her  forehead,  which  was  as 
free  from  fever  as  a  stone.  "This  society  business  has 
unstrung  your  nerves.  I  think  I'll  take  you  South  for 
a  few  weeks  where  you  can  get  a  good  rest,  and  we  can 
be  more  to  ourselves." 

"But  how  can  you  get  away  from  your  business?" 
she  asked,  terror-stricken  at  the  thought  of  cancelling 
her  social  engagements. 

"My  business  has  not  grown  to  be  of  so  much  im 
portance  to  me  that  I'm  going  to  allow  it  to  interfere 
with  your  health  and  happiness.  You  and  our  home 

17 


CHAPTER  TWO 

come  first,  then  business.  My  partner  can  take  care 
of  that.  He's  furnished  most  of  the  brains  anyway, 
so  far.  Get  your  things  ready  and  we'll  go  next 
week." 

"Why,  Dalney,  you  dear  boy,  it  would  take  me  a 
month  to  get  ready.  The  dressmakers  are  all  busy 
and  — " 

"Oh,  nonsense,  by  that  time  it  will  be  spring.  Wear 
the  same  dresses  you  did  last  winter.  You've  kept 
your  figure  admirably,  and  most  of  them  you  never 
wore  but  once.  If  necessary  we  can  go  to  a  different 
place.  I'd  like  a  quieter  place  anyway,  where  we  can 
be  more  together." 

He  was  so  insistent  that  she  saw  it  would  be  neces 
sary  to  use  her  most  artful  powers  of  dissuasion,  and 
she  resorted  to  them. 

"Now,  Dalney,  dear,"  as  she  pushed  him  into  a  chair 
and  knelt  before  him,  gazing  up  into  his  eyes,  while 
her  hands  toyed  mechanically  with  his  watch  charm  — 
"Dalney,  dearest,  I  should  just  love  to  go  South,  and 
it's  awfully  sweet  of  you  to  leave  your  business  and 
take  me ;  but  really,  we  wouldn't  see  any  more  of  each 
other  than  right  here  in  our  cozy  little  home,  without 
a  lot  of  hotel  people  around  to  annoy  us.  Having  you 
love  me  makes  my  head  feel  better  already;  and  if 
you'll  just  kiss  me  once  behind  each  ear,  I'm  sure  it 
won't  ache  a  bit  longer.  And  it's  been  two  whole 
days,  you  naughty  boy,  since  you  kissed  my  eyes," 

18 


SOCIAL  AMBITIONS 

He  clasped  her  in  his  arms  and  kissed  her,  not  once, 
twice,  — -  but  twenty  times,  on  her  lips,  cheeks,  chin, 
throat,  eyes  and  behind  both  ears,  until  she  shook  her 
self  free  and  gasped  for  breath. 

"Now,  just  once  right  there  on  the  tip  —  for  good 
luck,"  she  said,  as  she  tilted  her  head  back  and  touched 
the  point  of  her  dainty  little  nose. 

"Thank  you.  Now  I  feel  all  better;  and  I  don't 
have  to  go  down  South  in  those  old  dusty,  smoky  trains 
and  stay  cooped  up  in  an  old  hotel,  do  I,  hubby  dear?" 

"No,  you  little  witch,  of  course  you  don't." 

That  night  while  his  wife  lay  sleeping  serenely,  Farns- 
worth  spent  several  wakeful  hours  in  serious  medita 
tion.  "What  has  come  over  her  of  late?"  he  mused. 

She  evidently  knew  his  one  great  weakness  —  his 
idolatrous  love  for  her,  and  ever  since  she  began  go 
ing  out  in  society,  after  their  child  was  born,  she  had 
played  upon  this  vulnerable  spot  whenever  she  found 
it  necessary  to  gain  his  acquiescence  in  accomplishing 
any  purpose.  This  time  she  had  forgotten  her  tactful- 
ness  and  claimed  her  point  so  quickly  following  her 
theatrical  love  demonstration  that  her  motive  was 
plainly  evident. 

"And  yet,  every  time  she  stages  that  little  farce," 
he  mused,  "I  fall  into  line  and  do  the  heroic  lover  act 
in  dead  earnest,  forgetting  for  the  moment  that  she's 
only  acting  her  part.  But  why  does  she  object  so  to 
going  South?" 

19 


CHAPTER  TWO 

Since  one  of  her  school  friends  had  been  smiled  upon 
by  some  impecunious  off-shoot  of  royalty  she  had  re 
peatedly  hinted  that  she  thought  it  a  mistake  for  a 
girl  with  an  independent  income  to  allow  herself  to  be 
hurried  into  matrimony  before  having  an  opportunity 
of  enjoying  the  gaieties  of  life,  and  traveling  abroad 
where  she  could  meet  people  of  the  "higher  social 
position."  Early  marriages,  she  said,  were  only  for 
poor  girls  who  need  protection  and  pecuniary  support. 
The  frequency  with  which  she  flaunted  her  father's 
wealth  and  prodigality  was  especially  exasperating,  - 
the  more  so  because,  although  his  mining  operations 
had  now  made  him  rich,  he  had  not  only  refused  to 
pay  back  any  part  of  the  last  loan  of  fifty  thousand 
dollars,  but  he  became  highly  indignant  and  even  in 
sulting  when  asked  to  do  so.  To  spare  Margaret's 
feelings,  Farnsworth  had  refrained  from  suing  on  her 
father's  note,  for  this  would  reveal  the  secret,  of  which 
as  yet  she  knew  nothing. 

Next  morning  Farnsworth  breakfasted  alone,  as 
usual  of  late,  and  went  directly  to  the  home  of  his 
aunt. 

"Aunt  Lucy,  I've  just  got  to  talk  with  someone  or  I 
shall  explode,"  he  began;  "and  as  you're  the  only  one 
who  knows  anything  —  or  rather,  everything  —  about 
my  affairs  I  came  to  you." 

After  describing  Margaret's  actions  of  the  previous 
night,  she  dispelled  his  apprehensions  by  saying  that 

20 


SOCIAL  AMBITIONS 

Margaret  was  still  young,  and  would  outgrow  her 
foolish  notions. 

"Why,  Jeff,  she's  but  a  mere  child;  you  must  be 
patient  with  her  whims.  She'll  soon  get  over  these 
social  follies.  Every  pretty  girl  brought  out  in  society 
becomes  inoculated  with  this  virus  sooner  or  later ;  but 
it's  easily  cured,  as  a  general  thing." 

An  hour  later  he  called  Margaret  up  on  the  phone 
from  his  office  to  inquire  how  she  felt.  Her  maid 
reported  her  still  in  bed,  but  she  would  call  her.  After 
a  long  wait  he  heard  her  languid  voice  answer, 
"Hello,  what  is  it,  Dalney?" 

"Oh,  nothing!"  he  said  as  he  clapped  the  receiver  on 
the  hook.  A  little  later  he  called  her  again  and 
apologized  for  his  abruptness. 

Under  his  impending  threat  of  taking  her  South, 
and  thus  interrupting  her  social  activities,  Margaret 
ceased  her  fault-finding  and  peevishness  for  a  few 
weeks,  and  at  times  appeared  more  like  herself  of  old. 
She  had  not  yet  arrived  at  the  stage  of  open  defiance 
and  disregard  of  his  expressed  wishes,  for  she  still  had 
a  lingering  fondness  for  his  love,  his  considerateness, 
and  his  gifts  of  jewelry,  all  of  which  he  was  constantly 
showering  upon  her.  But  in  due  time  she  again 
lapsed  into  a  state  of  inertia  in  the  household,  and  re 
fused  to  be  enticed  or  driven  out  of  it. 

Fortunately,  the  banking  firm  of  Farnsworth  & 
Company  —  with  an  old  time  friend  of  his  father  as 

21 


CHAPTER  TWO 

managing  partner  —  was  growing  rapidly  and  as  the 
home  life  grew  less  congenial  the  office  duties  became 
more  engrossing.  His  wife  took  no  interest  what 
ever  in  his  business  affairs,  and  he  concerned  himself 
as  little  as  possible  with  her  social  engagements,  ex 
cept  as  he  was  called  upon  evenings  to  act  as  her 
escort. 

Days,  weeks  and  months  dragged  on,  marked  by 
indifference  on  her  part,  and  constant  solicitude  and 
forbearance  on  his.  They  were  spending  the  summer 
at  their  new  country  home  up  the  Hudson.  She 
declared  that  he  had  selfishly  "buried"  her  in  the 
country,  where  he  could  have  her  all  to  himself,  away 
from  her  friends  and  associates ;  that  she  would  rather 
live  in  an  attic  room  in  the  city  than  amid  all  the  luxury 
of  the  ample  grounds,  flower  gardens,  groves  and  drives 
on  their  country  estate. 

"I'll  be  glad  when  fall  comes  and  I  can  get  out  of 
this  detestable  hole,"  she  said  —  after  he  had  spent  a 
fortune  on  the  place. 

One  afternoon  early  in  September,  on  reaching  home 
by  an  earlier  train  than  usual,  Farnsworth  found  his 
wife  in  tears.  On  looking  up  with  startled  eyes  and 
quivering  lips  as  he  entered  she  hastily  seized  and 
crumpled  in  her  hand  a  letter  that  lay  in  her  lap,  then 
left  the  room  abruptly  without  even  giving  him  the 
perfunctory  kiss.  As  he  stood  staring  open-mouthed 
at  her  departing  figure  a  hundred  conjectures  flashed 

22 


SOCIAL   AMBITIONS 

across  his  mind.  Turning  about  he  saw  a  plain  white 
envelope  lying  on  the  floor  beside  her  chair.  On  it  he 
saw  his  wife's  name  written  in  a  bold,  and  apparently 
disguised,  masculine  hand.  It  was  addressed  to  a 
private  box  at  the  New  York  post  office. 


23 


CHAPTER  III 
"MY  FATHER  A  MURDERER!" 

When  her  husband  arose  and  went  into  his  dressing 
room  next  morning  Mrs.  Farnsworth  pretended  to  be 
asleep ;  but  later  when  she  heard  him  leave  the  house 
she  jumped  up  quickly,  and  as  the  carriage  disappeared 
down  the  driveway  she  went  in  quest  of  the  letter  she 
had  hidden  on  the  previous  afternoon.  Falling  into  an 
easy  chair  she  reread  it,  carefully  weighing  the  signifi 
cance  of  every  word.  When  she  had  concluded  she 
groaned,  —  "God  help  me !  A  murderer !  My  own 
father  a  murderer!  Oh,  oh !  I  can't  believe  it  —  and 
yet  there's  his  confession  written  by  his  own  hand. 
And  so  that's  why  he  changed  his  name  to  Gordon 
Dempsey!  Why,  in  Heaven's  name,  is  he  coming  to 
me,  I  wonder !  —  Why  doesn't  he  go  and  jump  into 
the  ocean,  or  anywhere  to  avoid  capture,  identification 
and  disgrace !  —  The  papers  will  be  full  of  it !  If  they 
catch  him  I'll  be  publicly  disgraced  —  ruined  forever.— 
I  must  explain  to  Dalney,  and  we'll  hunt  a  secluded 
spot  in  some  remote  corner  of  the  earth  where  we'll 
never  see  anyone  we  know.  —  All  my  fond  hopes 
blasted  —  0  God !  It  will  kill  me !" 

She  walked  over  and  threw  the  letter  into  the  grate, 
and  watched  it  as  the  flames  consumed  it ;  then  as  the 
charred  embers  curled  and  cracked,  and  finally  melted 

24 


"MY   FATHER   A   MURDERER1" 

into  ashes,  —  "And  he'll  be  here  this  morning,"  she 
murmured.  "What  a  gloomy  home-coming  after  a 
seven  years'  absence!" 

She  was  startled  out  of  her  reveries  by  the  ring  of 
her  private  telephone  bell,  which  she  now  dreaded  to 
answer.  She  wondered  if  the  servant  receiving  the 
call  down  stairs  would  listen  while  she  talked  to  him. 
She  answered  the  call,  and  the  instant  she  hung  up  the 
receiver  she  rang  for  the  butler. 

"Simpson,  in  a  few  minutes  a  gentleman  will  call. 
Show  him  at  once  into  the  drawing  room." 

As  the  butler  left,  her  maid  appeared  with  the  break 
fast  tray.  Although  not  a  hearty  eater,  Margaret  was 
consistently  regular  in  her  meals  and  scrupulously 
careful  of  her  diet.  Since  Mrs.  St.  George  had  be 
stowed  genuine  and  unstinted  praise  upon  her  "won 
derful  complexion  and  figure"  she  had  rarely  allowed 
any  ailment,  either  physical  or  mental,  to  penetrate  as 
deep  as  her  stomach,  or  to  interfere  with  her  sleep. 
She  was  determined  never  to  have  wrinkles,  and  she 
rarely  took  anything  seriously  to  heart,  —  except 
society,  — •  and  nothing  was  ever  permitted  to  disturb 
her  equanimity  for  long  at  a  time.  Then,  too,  she  was 
paying  strict  heed  to  the  carefully  prescribed  rules  of 
"how  to  cure  giggling,  smiling  and  spontaneous  laugh 
ter,"  all  common  faults  in  the  "lower  order  of  society," 
and  all  productive  of  wrinkles,  and  destructive  of 
beauty.  She  made  it  a  practice  never  to  smile  when 

25 


CHAPTER  THREE 

speaking,  even  pleasantly,  to  a  servant  in  the  house ; 
hence  she  was  known  in  the  common  parlance  of  the 
household  servants  as  "The  Sphinx."  None  of  them 
loved  her,  none  of  them  feared  her,  all  of  them  respected 
her  merely  as  the  wife  of  the  kind-hearted  "Master  of 
the  house"  whom  they,  one  and  all,  loved  and  respected. 

After  finishing  her  breakfast  she  dressed  hurriedly 
and  started  down.  As  she  approached  the  foot  of  the 
stairs  she  heard  loud  talking  in  the  back  hall,  then  a 
shuffling  noise  as  if  a  struggle  was  taking  place ;  then 
the  back  door  slammed  shut.  The  butler  came  in 
much  excited. 

"What  is  the  matter,  Simpson?" 

"There's  a  crazy  man  out  there  that  says  he  must 
see  you.  He  pushed  in  past  me,  and  I  threw  him  out 
the  door,  madam." 

She  stamped  her  foot  and  her  eyes  flamed  with 
indignation. 

"Didn't  I  tell  you  to  show  him  in  at  once?" 

"I  understood  you  to  say  a  gentleman,  madam." 

"Show  him  to  the  drawing  room  this  instant,"  she 
commanded. 

Simpson  turned  reluctantly  and  obeyed.  She  hur 
ried  to  the  drawing  room  and  stood  trembling  with 
agitation.  In  a  moment  Simpson  appeared  at  the 
door  with  a  slovenly-dressed  thick-set  man  with 
shaggy,  grizzled  beard,  and  an  old  slouch  hat  pulled 
down  over  his  bloodshot  eyes. 

26 


"MY   FATHER   A   MURDERER  I" 

"Oh,  my  God!"  she  shrieked,  and  shrank  back  in 
terror,  as  the  bulky  form  of  her  father  appeared  inside 
the  door. 

"Shall  I  stand  at  the  door,  madam?"  asked  the 
butler. 

"No ;  draw  them  shut." 

"Do  the  servants  know?"  her  father  asked  excitedly. 

"No ;  they  know  nothing.  Why  didn't  you  come  in 
at  the  front  door?" 

"I  came  in  past  the  stables  at  the  back  gateway.  I 
believe  I've  been  followed  here,"  he  said,  as  he  glanced 
stealthily  about  the  room,  his  hat  still  pulled  down 
over  his  eyes. 

"Great  Heavens !  I  hope  they  don't  arrest  you  here," 
she  exclaimed,  and  going  to  the  folding  doors  she 
locked  them.  "You  are  taking  a  great  risk  in  coming 
here.  This  is  the  first  place  they  would  think  of  watch 
ing  for  you.  There  was  a  strange  man  —  probably  a 
detective  —  here  yesterday  pretending  to  be  looking 
for  a  position  as  butler." 

"They'll  never  take  me  alive,  and  I'll  kill  the  first 
one  that  tries  it,"  he  said  warningly  as  he  put  his  hand 
to  his  hip  pocket.  Then  from  his  inside  pocket  he 
drew  forth  a  large  package  of  papers  and  handed  them 
to  her.  "Here,  take  these  and  have  some  reliable 
broker  —  not  your  husband,  mind  you  —  sell  them, 
and  put  the  money  in  two  or  three  banks,  in  your  name. 
They're  all  indorsed  and  witnessed,  so  all  you've  got 

27 


CHAPTER  THREE 

to  do  is  to  sell  them.  They  may  get  my  dead  body,  but 
I'll  be  damned  if  they  get  these." 

She  took  the  package  and  fumbled  it  nervously  with 
her  fingers  as  she  stared  at  him  in  stupefied  amaze 
ment. 

"Mind  you,"  said  he,  pointing  to  the  package  she 
held,  "not  a  dollar  of  that  money  for  your  husband. 
I've  had  enough  of  him  —  I  wouldn't  trust  him  with 
one  penny.  He'll  be  claiming  it  all  as  his,  and  try  to 
beat  you  out  of  it  —  but  don't  you  believe  him  —  not 
a  word  he  says.  Not  a  penny  to  him  —  swear  it  I  — 
not  a  penny  —  hear  me  —  do  you  promise?" 

"Y — ye — s,  I  promise,"  she  said,  with  a  shudder  at 
the  sight  of  his  gruesome,  distorted  features. 

"Am  I  awake?  Or  is  this  only  a  horrible  dream? 
Can  this  be  my  father?"  she  was  asking  herself,  now 
that  her  reasoning  faculties  were  slowly  returning. 
He  went  on  — 

"Don't  believe  the  newspapers  —  they  lie.  It  was 
in  self-defense,  as  I  wrote  you  —  honest  to  God  it  was ; 
he'd  have  killed  me." 

He  shouted  his  words  so  loud  and  excitedly  that  she 
cautioned  him  that  the  servants  had  ears,  and  were 
probably  all  listening. 

"I'll  write  you,"  he  whispered  hoarsely,  "when  I 
want  money.  Gordon  Dempsey  —  that's  my  name, 
you  know.  And  remember,  not  a  word  to  your 
husband  about  — " 

28 


"MY   FATHER   A   MURDERER!" 

A  rap  at  the  door  startled  them.  She  went  to  the 
folding  doors  and  without  unlocking  them,  called,  - 

"What  is  it?" 

"An  officer,"  answered  Simpson's  voice.  "He's 
found  your  lost  dog." 

The  last  words  were  drowned  by  a  pistol  shot  behind 
her,  and  turning  quickly  she  saw  her  father  stagger 
and  fall  to  the  floor.  With  a  piercing  shriek  she  fell 
fainting  against  the  folding  doors. 

Finding  the  doors  locked,  Simpson  threw  his  weight 
against  them,  but  they  refused  to  give  way.  The 
policeman  rushed  in  to  his  aid,  but  their  combined 
strength  was  inadequate. 

"The  window!"  shouted  Simpson,  and  they  both 
rushed  out  onto  the  veranda,  followed  by  two  of  the 
maids  who  came  hurrying  into  the  hall.  Simpson 
plunged  in  through  the  window,  carrying  glass,  sash 
and  all  with  him,  and  a  ghastly  sight  met  his  eyes. 

"He's  killed  her !  I  knew  he'd  do  it !  I  knew  he'd 
do  it!  He's  crazy  as  a  loon  —  I  told  her  so!"  he  ex 
claimed  as  he  ran  frantically  back  and  forth  from  one 
body  to  the  other. 

"I  heard  only  one  shot,"  said  the  officer,  who  had 
followed  Simpson  in.  "Maybe  she  ain't  dead,"  as  he 
raised  Margaret's  limp  figure  and  looked  for  the  wound. 
She  was  carried  to  her  room  and  soon  revived  by  the 
maids.  A  doctor  was  summoned  from  the  village  and 
Mr.  Farnsworth  was  notified  by  telephone. 

29 


CHAPTER  THREE 

In  searching  the  body  the  coroner  discovered  a  con 
siderable  sum  of  money  —  mostly  in  bills  of  large  de 
nomination,  and  several  letters  written  in  a  feminine 
hand  on  plain  note  paper,  directed  to  Gordon  Dempsey 
in  different  localities.  They  were  all  addressed  "Dear 
Dad,"  undated,  unsigned,  and  postmarked  New  York 
City. 

In  an  hour  Farnsworth  arrived,  and  Margaret  having 
rallied  her  senses  by  sheer  force,  met  him  at  the  front 
door.  Her  only  sign  was  to  place  her  index  finger 
perpendicularly  across  her  lips  and  point  with  the  other 
hand  toward  the  drawing  room  door.  Hurrying  there 
he  saw  a  sheet  spread  over  the  figure,  still  lying  on  the 
floor,  and  as  he  raised  the  edge  of  the  covering  he  al 
most  collapsed  when  he  stared  into  the  gruesome  face 
of  his  dead  father-in-law.  The  butler  explained  that 
the  man  was  crazy  and  had  killed  himself  in  the  room. 
He  beckoned  Mr.  Farnsworth  aside  and  handed  him  a 
bundle  of  papers  with  the  remark,  — 

"I  found  these  on  the  floor  in  the  room  where  he 
shot  himself.  They  look  valuable,  and  I  didn't  know 
but  they  might  be  Mrs.  Farnsworth's,  so  I  picked  them 
up  quick  and  put  them  in  my  pocket.  The  policeman 
didn't  see  them,  sir,"  he  added  in  an  undertone. 

Farnsworth  glanced  through  the  certificates  and 
gasped  with  astonishment  to  find  that  they  represented 
a  market  value  of  nearly  half  a  million  dollars.  But  he 
was  much  puzzled  to  find  that  they  were  all  what  is 

30 


"MY   FATHER   A   MURDERER I" 

known  as  "Street  Certificates,"  that  is,  made  out  in 
the  name  of  different  brokerage  houses,  and  by  them 
indorsed  in  blank,  so  they  were  negotiable,  and  could 
be  sold  or  exchanged  for  new  stock  by  the  bearer 
presenting  them. 

"Thank  you,  Simpson.  You  judged  correctly; 
these  evidently  belong  to  Mrs.  Farnsworth.  You  will 
be  suitably  rewarded. —  But  what  happened  to  your 
face?  Did  you  have  a  tussle  with  him?" 

"I  did  it  breaking  through  the  window  into  the  room, 
sir,"  he  replied. 

When  the  coroner  came  to  remove  the  body,  Mr. 
Farnsworth  said  that  inasmuch  as  the  poor  fellow  had 
killed  himself  in  his  home  he  would  like  to  have  the 
privilege  of  giving  his  remains  a  respectable  burial, 
and  the  request  was  readily  granted.  The  money 
found  was  turned  over  to  the  authorities. 

Mrs.  Farnsworth  was  stricken  down  with  nervous 
collapse  and  did  not  leave  the  house  for  six  weeks  after 
the  tragedy.  During  this  time  her  husband  scarcely 
left  her,  except  when  the  nurses,  fearing  for  his  own 
health,  coaxed  him  away  for  a  few  hours  at  a  time 
under  the  pretense  that  the  peculiar  nature  of  his  wife's 
illness  demanded  it.  Almost  her  first  words  upon  re 
covering  from  her  delirium  were  to  inquire  about  the 
bundle  of  papers.  Her  husband  assured  her  that  he 
had  sent  them  to  the  city  and  they  were  secure  in  the 
safe  deposit  vault. 

31 


CHAPTER  THREE 

"But,  Midge,  my  dear,  they  may  get  burned  up  or 
stolen  if  you  keep  them  here,"  he  reasoned  with  her, 
when  she  asked  that  they  be  sent  for  at  once.  She 
insisted,  however,  and  in  order  to  humor  her  whim, 
the  package  was  sent  for  and  handed  over  to  her. 

"You  must  have  the  stock  transferred  into  your 
name,"  he  said,  "in  order  to  collect  the  dividends." 
But  from  that  day  Mr.  Farnsworth  never  saw  any  of 
the  securities  nor  the  proceeds  from  their  sale;  and 
her  father's  name  was  never  mentioned  between  them. 
She  managed  her  own  fortune  as  independently  of  her 
husband  and  his  advice  as  if  he  had  been  a  stranger  to 
her.  The  accumulation  of  interest  and  dividends  was 
added  to  the  principal,  and  never  drawn  upon. 


32 


CHAPTER  IV 
KITTY  BELLINGER 

After  a  lapse  of  fifteen  years  from  the  time  of  the 
tragedy  in  the  foregoing  chapter,  the  Farnsworths  are 
living  in  their  large  new  corner  house  on  Riverside 
Drive.  During  the  interim  Mr.  Farnsworth's  aunt  and 
his  business  partner  have  passed  away,  and  he  has 
taken  into  the  partnership  a  Mr.  Burleigh,  who  for 
many  years  had  been  his  chief  clerk  and  confidential 
man.  The  firm  of  Farnsworth  &  Co.,  counted  as  one 
of  the  strong,  conservative  banking  concerns  of  the 
metropolis,  has  enjoyed  seventeen  years  of  continued 
prosperity. 

The  fleeting  years  have  brought  no  improvement  in 
the  growing  infelicities  of  the  Farnsworth  household. 
Tom,  the  idol  of  his  father's  heart,  is  in  his  freshman 
year  at  Harvard.  Mr.  Farnsworth  as  he  now  appears, 
is  a  tall,  well  groomed,  typical  man  of  affairs.  The 
lineaments  of  his  clean-shaven  face  are  regular,  and 
his  finely  shaped  head  well  poised  on  a  pair  of  rather 
broad  shoulders.  Mrs.  Farnsworth,  upon  whose  face 
and  faultless  figure  Father  Time  has  cast  no  shadowy 
traces,  is  still  known  among  the  servants  as  the 
immutable  household  sphinx.  She  has  lost  none  of 
the  consciousness  of  her  physical  charms,  and  secure 
in  the  confidence  of  her  husband's  unalterable  love  and 

33 


CHAPTER  FOUR 

indulgence,  she  has  not  in  recent  years  felt  called  upon 
to  exert  herself  to  the  extent  of  resorting,  even  inter 
mittently,  to  her  counterfeit  manifestations  of  recipro 
cal  love.  Since  the  first  eighteen  months  of  married 
life  she  has  usually  been  too  warm  or  too  cold,  too  busy 
or  too  sick,  too  tired  or  too  sleepy  to  be  caressed. 

"Such  actions,"  she  told  her  would-be-lover  hus 
band,  "are  for  newly-married  couples — not  for  people 
settled  in  life." 

If  their  life  has  of  late  years  been  marked  by  a 
gradually  increasing  indifference  on  her  part  and  a 
corresponding  tendency  toward  dignity  and  reserve 
upon  his,  their  existence  has  been  in  no  sense  a  quarrel 
some  one.  Both  have  found  occupation  in  their  indi 
vidual  hobbies — she  in  her  social  life,  he  in  his  busi 
ness.  About  the  only  point  upon  which  they  openly 
disagreed  was  in  regard  to  the  amount  of  money  he 
"wasted  on  charity."  She  sometimes  found  fault 
with  him  for  what  she  termed  his  "absurd  generosity" 
to  strangers,  when  there  were  so  many  jewels  and  other 
personal  adornments  she  wanted;  though  in  point  of 
fact  she  spent  his  money  with  unrestrained  prodigality, 
and  was  the  most  expensively  gowned  and  jewelled 
woman  in  her  set. 

One  afternoon  early  in  May,  just  after  Farnsworth 
&  Company  had  engaged  a  new  stenographer,  a  young 
woman  of  perhaps  twenty-one,  dressed  in  black,  came 

34 


KITTY  BELLINGER 

in  and  asked  to  see  Mr.  Farnsworth.  Without  notic 
ing  her  particularly,  the  office  man  at  the  desk  near 
the  door  said,  "The  position  has  just  been  filled." 

"But  could  I  see  Mr.  Farnsworth  personally?"  she 
said  timidly,  "my  father  was  an  old  friend  of  his." 
Looking  up  he  hastened  to  apologize,  and  explained 
that  during  the  day  a  number  of  young  women  had 
applied  for  the  position  of  stenographer,  and  without 
noticing  her  he  thought  she  had  come  for  the  place. 

"Please  tell  Mr.  Farnsworth  that  I  am  Harvey 
Bellinger's  daughter,"  she  said  politely.  He  disap 
peared,  and  returning  a  few  moments  later  he  led  the 
way  to  the  private  office  of  Mr.  Farnsworth,  who  rose 
from  his  desk  and  greeting  her  cordially,  offered  her  a 
chair. 

"I  am  indeed  glad  to  meet  the  daughter  of  my  old- 
time  friend,  and  trust  that  I  may  be  of  some  service  to 
you,"  he  said. 

She  hesitated  as  if  uncertain  how  to  begin.  "I'm 
sorry  to  trouble  you,  since  I  arrived  too  late  to  get  the 
position,  but  I've  heard  my  father  speak  of  you  so 
often  that  I  felt  as  if  I  could  come  to  you  for  advice. 
Possibly  you  might  be  able  to  tell  me  where  I  could  get 
a  position." 

Mr.  Farnsworth  gasped  with  astonishment.  "Why, 
your  father  was  a  rich  man  —  do  you  mean  to  tell  me 
you  have  been  reduced  to  the  necessity  of  earning  your 
own  living?" 

35 


CHAPTER  FOUR 

"Yes,  father  was  reputed  to  be  rich,  but  he  lost  most 
of  his  money  through  a  bank  failure  and  other  un 
fortunate  investments,  and  the  expense  of  his  long  ill 
ness  took  what  little  he  had  left.  The  doctors  and 
everyone  else  thought  we  were  rich,  and  they  charged 
us  accordingly.  Mother's  death  two  years  ago  and  his 
heavy  financial  losses  came  almost  together,  and  though 
he  fought  bravely  for  more  than  a  year,  he  couldn't 
overcome  the  shock." 

Bowing  his  head  for  a  moment  Mr.  Farnsworth 
seemed  lost  in  thought.  —  "It's  strange  how  easily  we 
lose  sight  of  those  about  us,  —  even  our  best  friends," 
he  said  sadly.  "I  used  to  see  your  father  often  at  the 
club;  then  after  your  mother's  death  he  resigned  and 
I  scarcely  ever  saw  him.  But  I  little  realized  that  he 
was  in  financial  distress.  Your  home,"  he  said,  look 
ing  up  at  her  —  "has  that  been  broken  up?" 

"Yes,  the  mortgagees  took  everything,  even  the 
furniture  and  paintings.  They  seemed  to  begrudge  me 
my  jewelry  and  my  own  personal  things." 

"May  I  ask  —  are  you  living  with  some  relative?" 

"No,  I'm  all  alone.  When  father  died  I  went  to 
live  with  an  aunt,  but  she  was  also  in  much  reduced 
circumstances,  and  I  didn't  feel  as  if  I  ought  to  be 
come  a  burden  upon  her,  so  I  studied  shorthand.  She 
died  just  before  I  graduated,  two  months  ago." 

"Was  that  your  Aunt  Millie,  —  your  father's 
sister?" 

36 


KITTY  BELLINGER 

"Yes." 

"And  your  name  is  Kate,  I  believe  —  I  hope  I  may 
take  the  liberty  of  so  calling  you,  for  the  sake  of  old 
comradeship  with  your  father." 

She  flushed,  and  as  the  color  enlivened  her  pale 
cheeks,  contrasting  with  her  deep  blue  eyes  and  dark 
hair,  he  was  struck  with  astonishment  at  her  loveliness. 

"Yes,  Mr.  Farnsworth;  father  always  called  me 
Kate  and  I  should  feel  very  grateful  if  his  old-time 
friend  took  an  interest  in  my  welfare." 

"I  do  take  a  very  great  interest  in  your  welfare,  and 
I  am  much  grieved  that  your  father  never  confided  his 
financial  troubles  to  me." 

"He  was  extremely  sensitive  on  that  point,"  she 
said,  "and  I  don't  think  he  ever  told  anyone,  not 
even  me  —  until  the  doctor  gave  up  all  hope  of  his 
recovery.  The  estate  barely  paid  his  debts;  in  fact 
there  are  a  few  small  unpaid  accounts  that  I  have 
promised  to  meet  as  soon  as  I  can  earn  some  money." 

"Are  his  papers  in  your  possession,  and  do  you  know 
if  there  were  any  certificates  of  stock  in  a  Colorado 
gold  mine?" 

"Yes,  I  have  them  all.  There  are  a  number  of 
worthless  stock  certificates  among  them." 

"You  are  a  plucky  girl  —  as  your  father's  daughter 
would  naturally  be  —  and  as  his  friend  I  am  glad  to 
tell  you  that  you  need  look  no  further  for  employ 
ment.  But,"  as  he  hesitated  and  looked  at  her  hands, 

37 


CHAPTER  FOUR 

"I'm  afraid  those  tapering  fingers  are  too  frail  to  do 
typewriting." 

"Oh,  you  are  so  kind,  Mr.  Farnsworth;  I'm  quite 
strong,  and  I  would  do  my  best  to  please  you.  But  I 
couldn't  think  of  taking  the  position  away  from  the 
other  girl;  she  probably  needs  it  as  much  as  I  do." 

"Just  like  your  father  —  he  was  always  looking  to 
the  interests  of  the  other  fellow.  Don't  trouble  your 
conscience  over  the  other  girl;  your  work  will  not 
interfere  with  hers.  Could  you  call  tomorrow  after 
noon  at  three  o'clock?  and  would  you  mind  bringing 
along  those  worthless  certificates?" 

"Yes,  if  you  would  like  me  to  —  shall  I  come  pre 
pared  to  go  to  work?" 

He  smiled.  "No,  I  won't  hurry  you  to  that  extent ; 
I  wish  to  think  matters  over  a  little  and  talk  with  you 
again." 

As  she  left  the  office  he  called  her  back  —  "Do  your 
friends  know  your  circumstances?" 

"No,  I've  avoided  them  as  much  as  possible,  and 
have  said  nothing  to  any  of  them  about  my  plans." 

"We  will  see  if  we  can't  remedy  that,"  he  said,  as  he 
led  her  to  the  outer  door. 

She  smiled  happily  as  she  turned  to  go,  and  he 
watched  her  slender,  graceful  figure  as  she  passed  out 
onto  the  street.  Returning  to  his  private  office  he 
lit  a  fresh  cigar  and  assumed  a  recumbent  attitude 
in  his  easy  chair  as  he  reflected  back  over  past  years. 

38 


KITTY  BELLINGER 

"Poor  Harvey!  Things  must  have  gone  badly  with 
him  in  his  latter  days.  And  now  his  only  child  — 
poor  girl  —  is  left  penniless !  He  relied  too  confi 
dently  upon  the  honesty  of  men  in  the  mining  business, 
and  it  resulted  in  his  undoing.  Of  course  those  mining 
shares  are  not  worth  a  cent,  but  they  will  serve  my 
purpose  just  as  well,"  he  mused,  as  he  watched  the 
smoke  from  his  cigar  curling  lazily  toward  the  ceiling. 

Other  affairs  claiming  his  attention,  he  dismissed  the 
matter  for  the  time  being. 

Next  day  the  young  lady  called  promptly  at  the  hour 
appointed,  and  was  ushered  into  Mr.  Farnsworth's 
office. 

"I'm  sorry,  Mr.  Farnsworth,"  she  said  —  handing 
him  a  large  envelope  —  "but  this  is  all  I  could  find  at 
home.  The  others  must  have  been  left  with  our 
lawyer." 

The  envelope  contained  some  certificates  of  stock  in 
a  western  gold  mine  that  he  had  never  even  heard  of. 

"Why,  these  represent  a  paper  value  of  a  hundred 
thousand  dollars!"  he  said,  looking  up  in  feigned 
surprise. 

"Yes,"  she  replied  calmly,  "and  I  don't  suppose 
they  are  worth  that  many  cents." 

"I'm  not  entirely  sure  about  that  —  I'll  write  to  one 
of  my  western  correspondents  and  make  inquiry. 
Now,  the  work  I  have  in  mind  for  you  is  perhaps  a 
little  different  from  what  you  expect.  I  wish  you  to 

30 


CHAPTER  FOUR 

act  as  my  agent  in  looking  after  a  number  of  families. 
Your  duty  will  be  to  visit  each  family  once  or  twice  a 
week  and  report  conditions  and  needs  just  as  you  find 
them.  I  wish  you  to  ascertain  the  income  and  neces 
sary  expense  of  each  household  and  what  additional 
amount  is  required  to  supply  food,  clothing  and  fuel. 
You  are  to  keep  accounts  at  the  stores  in  your  own 
name  and  order  such  articles  as  are  needful.  I  will 
furnish  the  necessary  guaranty  of  accounts,  but  other 
wise  my  name  is  not  to  be  used  in  any  way.  No  money 
is  to  be  given  directly,  except  perhaps  in  special  in 
stances,  and  extravagance  and  wastefulness  is  to  be 
discouraged  in  all  cases.  Do  you  feel  equal  to  such  an 
undertaking?" 

"I'm  simply  delighted  with  the  idea!"  she  exclaimed, 
as  she  clapped  her  hands  in  childish  glee.  "It's  just 
the  work  I've  always  wanted  to  do;  and  I'm  so  glad 
you're  interested  in  it.  How  I  do  wish  father  could 
have  known  this  before  he  died  —  it  would  have  made 
him  so  happy.  He  was  utterly  broken-hearted  over 
leaving  me  destitute ;  and  now  I  am  so  glad  to  think  I 
can  earn  my  own  living,  and  at  the  same  time  do  some 
good  in  the  world. 

"Oh,  Mr.  Farnsworth,  if  you  could  only  know  how 
much  I  appreciate  your  kindness!  Everything  has 
been  so  blue  and  disheartening;  and  now  I'm  so  happy. 
If  all  the  rich  men  were  only  like  you !" 

The  spirit  with  which  she  entered  into  his  plans 

40 


KITTY  BELLINGER 

gladdened  his  heart.  After  some  further  instructions 
he  handed  her  a  list  of  names  and  addresses,  with  an 
order  on  the  cashier  for  a  sum  sufficient  to  cover  her 
own  incidental  expenses.  As  she  was  leaving  his 
office  he  smilingly  remarked,  - 

"I  hope  that  for  a  time  at  least  you  will  prove  unlike 
the  last  young  lady  who  attended  to  this  work  for  me." 

"In  what  respect,  Mr.  Farnsworth?" 

"Why,  she  had  been  with  me  less  than  a  year  when 
she  got  married  and  went  to  Europe." 

"I  shall  try  to  be  more  grateful  than  that,"  she  said 
blushingly,  as  she  turned  to  go. 

"Just  the  girl  I've  been  looking  for!"  he  mused  as 
he  walked  meditatively  about  the  room  after  she  had 
gone.  "Her  face  would  bring  joy  into  the  most  deso 
late  home  — "  Then,  reflectively,  as  he  halted  and 
looked  out  at  the  window  —  "except  my  own." 

One  morning,  two  weeks  later,  when  Miss  Bellinger 
came  in  to  make  her  weekly  report  to  Mr.  Farnsworth, 
he  told  her  that  her  mining  stock  had  turned  out  to  be 
worth  more  than  she  thought.  "It  doesn't  pay  any 
dividend  yet,  but  it  may  in  time,  and  in  addition  to 
your  present  salary  I'm  going  to  advance  you  a  little 
extra  and  charge  it  against  the  stock." 

"Oh,  Mr.  Farnsworth,  you  are  already  allowing  me 
too  much,  and  I'd  rather  you  wouldn't  advance  me 
any  money  on  the  stock  until  you  know  for  sure  that 
it's  really  earning  dividends." 

41 


CHAPTER  FOUR 

But  the  next  Saturday  the  cashier  handed  her  the 
additional  amount,  which  he  insisted  was  according  to 
Mr.  Farnsworth's  orders.  "And  his  orders,  madam, 
are  never  disobeyed,"  he  added.  Although  convinced 
that  the  stock  was  still  worthless,  she  accepted  the  extra 
allowance  with  a  grateful  appreciation  of  the  spirit 
of  disinterested  generosity  in  which  it  was  given  her. 

During  the  weeks  and  months  that  followed,  Miss 
Bellinger  was  a  frequent  caller  at  the  office  and  the 
problems  that  were  constantly  arising  in  her  work 
were  the  subject  of  many  more  or  less  protracted  and 
discursive  interviews  with  Mr.  Farnsworth.  She 
visited  the  heads  of  various  charitable  organizations 
and  made  a  careful  study  of  the  particular  branch 
of  work  in  which  she  was  engaged.  The  practical 
manner  in  which  she  systematized  her  work  and  the 
readiness  with  which  she  analyzed  and  mastered  diffi 
cult  situations  won  the  respect  and  admiration  of  her 
employer.  He  learned  something  he  had  not  fully 
realized  before,  —  that  the  work  of  dispensing  chari 
table  donations  in  such  a  way  as  not  to  do  more  harm 
than  good  is  one  requiring  judgment  and  fine  descrimi- 
nation.  Miss  Bellinger  found  many  cases  where  able- 
bodied  men  and  women  had  been  reduced  to  a  state  of 
indolent  pauperization  through  misapplied  benevo 
lence.  "Indiscriminate  alms-giving,"  she  said,  "is  a 
great  destroyer  of  pride  and  self-reliance  —  more  so, 
even,  than  the  drink  habit." 

42 


KITTY   BELLINGER 

"Kate,"  said  her  employer  to  her  one  day,  "if  ever  I 
should  become  an  object  of  charity  my  first  thought 
would  be  of  you;  and  my  fondest  hope  would  be  to 
have  you  minister  to  my  needs." 

Six  months  later  the  very  foundations  of  Wall  Street 
were  shaken  by  the  worst  financial  panic  of  the  age, 
and  he  little  dreamed  how  prophetic  his  jesting  remark 
was  destined  to  become. 


43 


CHAPTER  V 
THE  PANIC 

The  great  business  depression  and  financial  chaos 
that  swept  over  the  entire  continent  centered  in  "Wall 
Street,"  the  country's  financial  whirlpool.  Confidence 
was  upset,  credit  and  reputation  of  former  times 
counted  for  nothing  —  all  values  and  credits  were 
based  solely  on  the  stock-market  quotations  from  day 
to  day.  Never  in  Mr.  Farnsworth's  experience  had  he 
seen  such  stringent  monetary  conditions.  His  firm 
was  hard  hit  by  having  to  carry  a  large  block  of  new 
and  inactive  industrial  bonds,  the  market  value  of 
which  was  subject  to  wide  fluctuations.  The  value  of 
the  high  grade  stocks  and  bonds  in  which  the  deposi 
tors'  money  and  their  own  funds  had  been  invested 
had  declined  from  twenty  to  fifty  points  and  these  were 
pledged  with  banks  and  trust  companies  as  security 
for  cash  used  in  meeting  the  heavy  drafts  upon  the 
bank.  The  contents  of  Mr.  Farnsworth's  private  box, 
which  had  contained  upwards  of  half  a  million  dollars 
in  seasoned  investment  securities,  had  been  put  up  as 
collateral  on  loans.  The  banks  continued  to  call  for 
additional  collateral  as  stock  values  continued  to 
crumble,  and  depositors  reduced  their  balances  at  his 
bank,  either  to  horde  the  money  away  in  safe  deposit 
vaults  or  to  buy  securities  at  the  prevailing  low  prices. 

44 


THE   PANIC 

Day  after  day  accounts  of  depositors  were  reduced  or 
closed,  until  there  remained  less  than  forty  per  cent  of 
the  normal  balances  on  customers'  accounts. 

Conditions  were  approaching  a  crisis  and  it  began  to 
look  to  Jefferson  Farnsworth  as  if  he  would  be  unable 
to  stem  the  tide.  He  had  resisted  the  thought  of  ap 
pealing  to  his  wife  until  all  other  hopes  failed  him ;  but 
the  flood  of  "forced  liquidation"  showed  no  signs  of 
receding.  One  afternoon,  after  the  stock  exchange 
had  closed  upon  the  most  chaotic  day  he  had  ever  seen 
in  the  "Street,"  he  hurried  home  to  talk  matters  over 
with  Mrs.  Farnsworth  and  ask  her  to  aid  him.  On 
arriving  home  he  found  that  she  was  out,  as  usual, 
and  pacing  the  floor  of  his  library  he  tried  in  vain  to 
penetrate  the  fog  of  difficulties  that  hovered  about 
him,  depressed  him,  threatened  his  immediate  ruin! 

Shortly  after  five  o'clock  he  heard  the  front  door 
close. 

"Is  that  you,  Midge?"  he  called  from  the  library,  as 
his  wife  came  in  from  the  matinee. 

"Yes,"  she  answered  coldly. 

He  heard  the  rustle  of  her  skirts  as  she  passed  up 
the  broad  stairway  in  the  hall,  and  although  he  momen 
tarily  expected  her  to  appear,  she  did  not  come  down 
until  dinner  was  announced. 

As  they  sat  at  dinner  Mr.  Farnsworth  looked 
troubled;  his  features  betrayed  unmistakable  signs  of 
his  mental  suffering. 

45 


CHAPTER   FIVE 

Mrs.  Farnsworth's  dark  eyes  were  clear  and  spark 
ling,  and  her  finely  chiselled  features  were  tinged  with 
a  healthful  glow  after  the  ride  home  from  the  theatre 
in  the  open  air. 

After  a  lengthy  silence  he  asked,  — 

"Did  you  enjoy  the  matinee?" 

"No ;  it  was  stupid." 

Another  silence,  again  broken  by  the  husband.  "I 
wish  you  would  cancel  the  opera  tickets  for  Friday 
night.  My  affairs  are  very  unsettled  and  I  fear  I  shall 
be  unable  to  go." 

"Very  well,  I  will  cancel  yours  if  you  like,  but  /shall 
go.  It's  the  last  Wagner  opera  of  the  season." 

After  this  both  remained  silent  until  the  conclusion 
of  the  meal.  He  was  thoughtful,  and  ate  but  little; 
she  ate  in  quiet,  with  evident  relish  and  unconcern. 

Upon  leaving  the  dining  room  she  tripped  lightly  up 
the  stairs,  humming  a  tune  she  had  heard  that  after 
noon,  and  as  he  stood  meditating  in  the  hall  he  heard 
her  sitting  room  door  close.  After  walking  about  un 
easily  for  awhile  he  went  up  and  tapped  at  her  door. 
He  found  her  seated  before  the  grate  reading  the 
evening  paper,  and  taking  a  nearby  seat  he  gazed 
reflectively  into  the  fire. 

She  continued  to  read. 

"Midge,"  he  said  at  length,  "I  am  in  a  sea  of  trouble. 
Everything  seems  to  be  going  against  me  lately." 
Looking  up  at  her  he  waited  for  some  evidence  of  her 

46 


THE   PANIC 

interest;  but  she  still  looked  at  the  paper,  apparently 
unmoved  by  the  remark.  Finally  she  asked  in  a  list 
less  way, 

"Why?     What  has  happened?" 

"Market  conditions  are  such,"  he  explained  "that  I 
fear  we  shall  lose  everything  unless  things  change  for 
the  better  very  soon.  A  great  deal  of  my  money  is 
loaned  out  on  time,  and  is  not  available  at  short 
notice." 

Still  unstirred,  she  turned  the  paper  over  and  looked 
at  the  pictures  on  the  last  page. 

"Midge;  I  wish  you  would  lend  me  some  money  for 
a  few  weeks,  or  perhaps  a  few  months." 

She  finally  raised  her  head  slowly  and  looked  at  him 
in  surprise. 

"Why  should  /  lend  you  money?  Why  don't  you 
borrow  it  from  your  business  friends?"  she  asked  coldly, 
without  even  inquiring  how  much  he  needed.  Con 
tinuing,  —  "A  man  never  pays  back  money  he  borrows 
from  his  wife." 

"You  have  my  word  of  honor.  In  all  our  years  of 
married  life  have  you  ever  known  me  to  misrepresent 
anything  to  you?" 

"No,  I  don't  know  that  I  have,"  and  with  a  half- 
suppressed  yawn,  she  turned  again  to  the  paper.  From 
where  he  sat  he  could  see  a  double-column  heading,  — 

"STOCKS  AGAIN  BREAK  BADLY  —  MANY 
LARGE  LOANS  CLOSED  OUT  —  MARKET  SHOWS 

47 


CHAPTER  FIVE 

NO  SIGNS  OF  RALLYING"  and  rising  abruptly  he 
walked  the  floor. 

"It's  the  first  time  in  all  my  banking  experience  that 
I've  been  hard  pressed.  I  have  always  had  plenty  of 
money  to  lend  in  times  like  these,  and  I  should  have 
been  in  that  position  today  but  for  two  bond  issues 
that  I  underwrote  at  an  inopportune  time.  I  don't 
hold  a  share  of  stock  on  margin,  but  all  my  valuable 
securities  are  tied  up  in  loans  for  money  used  in  taking 
up  these  bonds  and  paying  off  timid  depositors." 
Pausing  before  her  chair  he  looked  down  at  her. 

"I  wish  you  would  help  me  out  of  this  difficulty, 
Margaret,"  he  said  in  a  voice  broken  by  the  emotions 
that  stirred  deeply  within  him.  "It  is  the  first  favor  I 
ever  asked  of  you.  I'm  in  the  most  desperate  straits. 
Our  credit  has  always  stood  so  high  that  the  thought 
of  failure  has  almost  driven  me  mad." 

After  some  moments  she  looked  up  and  said  un 
feelingly,  "If  your  name  stands  well,  I  don't  see  why 
the  banks,  or  your  friends,  won't  help  you." 

"Yes,  in  ordinary  times  they  would,  without  hesita 
tion;  but  you  really  can't  appreciate  a  situation  like 
this;"  he  explained.  "The  banks  are  all  as  timid  as 
the  investors  and  depositors." 

"But  most  of  my  money  is  in  stocks  and  bonds;" 
she  argued.  "I  haven't  more  than  two  hundred 
thousand  dollars  on  deposit  in  the  banks." 

He  was  astonished  to  learn  that  she  had  so  much 

48 


THE   PANIC 

money  uninvested  —  in  reality  all  he  needed  to  tide 
him  over.  From  the  way  she  spoke  at  first  he  had 
some  misgivings  about  being  able  to  induce  her  to 
disturb  any  investments  she  might  have  in  stocks  or 
bonds,  but  since  she  had  voluntarily  told  him  she  had 
this  amount  of  cash,  he  now  felt  sure  she  would  lend 
it  to  him;  if  not,  why  should  she  have  mentioned  the 
amount?  His  countenance  lighted  up  as  he  saw  the 
means  now  almost  in  his  grasp  of  averting  his  impend 
ing  ruin. 

"Midge,  that  amount  is  all  I  need  to  take  up  all  my 
pressing  obligations,  and  there  isn't  a  single  chance  of 
your  losing  a  dollar  of  it.  It  will  save  us  more  than  a 
million  dollars.  You  must  let  me  have  it!"  he  said 
desperately. 

"But  you  wouldn't  give  me  the  million  dollars,  and 
I  don't  intend  to  take  any  chances  on  being  reduced  to 
poverty  in  my  old  age,"  she  said  calmly. 

"My  God!  Midge,  you  can't  sit  there  and  see  me 
suffer  this  way,  on  the  brink  of  ruination !  You  must 
help  me  —  you  are  not  heartless  —  you  must.  Think 
of  our  boy,  our  home,  our  family  name !  —  our  future 
happiness  —  yes,  our  very  existence  depends  on  it." 

She  sat  staring  vacantly  into  the  fire  and  made  no 
reply  to  this  final  outburst.  Stung  by  her  unrespon 
sive  attitude,  he  was  tempted  to  tell  her  that  the  money 
she  had  inherited  included  fifty  thousand  dollars  he 
had  lent  her  father,  with  interest  for  nearly  twenty 

49 


CHAPTER  FIVE 

years.     But  his  pride  would  not  permit  him  to  press 
his  appeal  further.     He  had  played  his  last  trump  - 
and  lost! 

As  he  stood  looking  at  her,  a  sense  of  bitterness  and 
wounded  pride  almost  choked  him.  He  turned, 
walked  slowly  out,  and  hesitating  in  the  door  he  looked 
back  at  her,  hoping  she  would  call  to  him;  but  she 
did  not  even  look  up. 

As  he  paced  the  floor  in  his  room  he  looked  up  every 
few  moments  at  the  open  door,  vainly  hoping  that  she 
would  relent  and  come  to  his  aid.  He  heard  the 
chimes  of  the  hall  clock  as  it  struck  ten,  and  as  he 
counted  the  strokes  it  seemed  that  he  had  never  heard 
a  clock  strike  so  slowly.  Going  out  into  the  hall  he 
saw  that  her  sitting  room  door  was  closed.  He  stepped 
lightly  up  to  the  lattice  door  of  her  sleeping  room  and 
heard  her  breathing  heavily. 

"My  God!"  he  exclaimed,  "she's  sound  asleep!" 


50 


CHAPTER  VI 
AN  INTOLERABLE  SITUATION 

On  the  following  evening  when  they  had  finished 
dinner  Mr.  Farnsworth  asked  his  wife  to  come  into 
the  library  a  little  later.  "I  have  something  impor 
tant  to  say  to  you,"  he  said. 

Without  replying  she  went  to  her  room  and  glanced 
abstractedly  over  a  few  pages  of  a  French  novel  she 
had  been  reading,  wondering  the  while  what  it  could 
be  that  he  wanted  of  her.  Concluding  that  he  prob 
ably  intended  to  urge  her  further  in  the  matter  of 
lending  him  funds  she  went  down  stairs,  determined 
to  adhere  firmly  to  her  former  decision. 

Mr.  Farnsworth  rose  from  his  chair  as  she  entered, 
and  seating  herself  at  the  opposite  side  of  the  large 
library  table  she  picked  up  a  magazine  and  turned  the 
pages  absent-mindedly. 

"Margaret,  when  you  have  finished  with  that  maga 
zine  please  give  me  your  undivided  attention  for  a  few 
moments." 

She  laid  the  magazine  down  deliberately,  and  stared 
at  him  with  unfeigned  surprise. 

"Well,  I  am  ready  to  listen  to  you." 

"I  noticed  this  afternoon  that  you  have  just  with 
drawn  your  balance  of  a  few  thousand  dollars  from 
my  bank  and  placed  it  elsewhere,"  he  said  coldly 

Si 


CHAPTER  SIX 

as  he  seated  himself  and  met  her  gaze  across  the 
table. 

"Yes,"  she  said  curtly,  "that  was  my  privilege,  I 
believe." 

"It  was,  indeed ;  it  was  also  your  privilege  to  refuse 
my  humble  request  last  night;  and  it  seems  to  have 
been  your  pleasure  to  exercise  the  fullness  of  your 
privilege  in  both  cases.  But  you  might  have  restrained 
your  avarice,  since  it  was  my  own  money  that  I  my 
self  voluntarily  placed  to  your  credit." 

She  merely  nodded  her  assent,  and  rising  she  looked 
at  him  inquiringly  as  if  to  ask  if  that  was  all  he  wished 
to  say. 

"Sit  down,  please!  I  have  scarcely  begun.  These 
are  comparatively  trifling  matters  which  we  will  pass 
over,  and  come  to  the  main  issue." 

"And  what  is  the  main  issue,  please?"  as  she  re 
seated  herself. 

"It  is  this:  I  am  keenly  conscious  of  the  fact  that 
your  lack  of  sympathy,  which  has  so  long  been  evi 
dent,  has  grown  to  contempt  now  that  you  see  me 
borne  down  and  humiliated  by  my  present  predica 
ment  ;  and  I  have  in  mind  a  plan  for  relieving  at  least 
this  one  feature  of  the  situation,  which  has  become 
absolutely  insufferable.  There  is  perhaps  a  grim  con 
solation  in  the  thought  that  your  scorn  is  tempered 
and  rendered  more  tolerable  by  an  utter  absence  of 
pity.  Pity,  being  akin  to  love,  is  not  one  of  your  weak- 

52 


AN   INTOLERABLE   SITUATION 

nesses.  Your  indifference  I  have  long  since  learned 
to  bear ;  but  the  contempt  and  open  hostility  shown  by 
your  act  in  needlessly  withdrawing  money  from  my 
bank  at  such  a  time  are  not  to  be  endured.  As  long  as 
I  was  prosperous  you  perhaps  felt  that  I  had  a  right  to 
demand  at  least  your  respect,  but  now  that  I  am  fight 
ing  for  existence  against  desperate  odds,  you  have  mis 
construed  my  last  appeal  for  help  as  an  indication  of 
weakness. 

"Beset  from  all  quarters,  and  driven  to  the  last  ditch, 
as  a  final  resort  I  came  to  you  for  the  aid  and  sym 
pathy  a  man  is  entitled  to  expect  from  his  wife;  but 
instead  of  helping  me  by  sympathetic  word  or  act  you 
deal  me  what  amounts  to  a  death-blow  from  an  unex 
pected  quarter." 

She  sat  with  downcast  eyes,  leafing  the  magazine 
carelessly.  He  stopped  and  watched  her  keenly  for  a 
moment,  then  continued  — 

"In  all  this  trouble  there  appears  to  be  but  one  thing 
over  which  I  have  any  personal  control ;  and  —  " 
bringing  his  clenched  fist  down  on  the  table  with  a 
thump  —  "by  the  gods,  I  propose  to  stand  my  ground 
and  defend  myself  in  that  quarter,  if  no  other." 
Startled  by  his  vehemence,  she  looked  up  quickly  at 
him. 

"My  plan  is,  that  you  shall  apply  at  once  for  a 
divorce,  which  I  shall  not  contest." 

At  this  she  straightened  up  and  stared  at  him  in 

53 


CHAPTER  SIX 

speechless  amazement.  At  length,  catching  her  breath, 
she  exclaimed,  — 

"A  divorce!  Why,  —  what  do  you  —  what  can  you 
be  thinking  about?  Have  you  lost  your  mind  com 
pletely?  /  have  no  grounds  for  divorce ;  and  besides, 
it  would  kill  me  socially  —  you  seem  to  have  no 
consideration  whatever  for  my  feelings." 

"Much  more  than  you  have  for  mine.  We  could 
easily  devise  some  expedient  that  would  meet  the  legal 
requirements  —  the  proceedings  could  be  held  pri 
vately,  and  the  details  kept  out  of  the  papers." 

"No  — "  she  replied,  after  a  moment's  delibera 
tion  —  "I  should  gain  nothing  by  divorcing  you.  Any 
way,  my  church  doesn't  recognize  divorce.  And 
what  is  more,  your  cousin,  Mrs.  St.  George,  would  snub 
me  instantly,  —  and  that  would  ruin  my  social  stand 
ing." 

"I  was  not  aware  that  your  social  position  depended 
upon  any  one  person.  With  your  agreeable  person 
ality  you  ought  to  be  able  to  hold  your  place  in  any 
society." 

"You  know  as  well  as  I,  Dalney,  that  Mrs.  St.  George 
is  the  acknowledged  leader  of  our  circle,  and  that  she 
would  not  hesitate  to  side  with  you  against  me.  Then 
there's  the  Vanderventers  —  they  would  cut  me  at 
once  — " 

"If  you  got  the  divorce,  I  don't  see  how  you  could  be 
criticized  for  my  short-comings,"  he  interrupted. 

54 


AN   INTOLERABLE  SITUATION 

"You  men  are  all  alike  —  you  don't  understand  the 
whims  of  these  society  people.  A  divorced  woman 
would  have  no  chance  whatever ;  there  has  never  been 
one  in  our  set.  Look  how  quickly  they  dropped  that 
Mrs.  Hillsworth.  Of  course  we  all  hated  her,  but  it 
wouldn't  have  made  any  difference  if  we  hadn't  — 
she  would  have  been  snubbed  just  the  same." 

"Would  your  church  compel  you  to  live  with  a  man 
you  have  ceased  to  love  —  one  that  would  be  cruel  or 
unfaithful  to  you?" 

"They  don't  take  the  circumstances  into  considera 
tion  ;  and  if  they  did,  the  conditions  you  mention  have 
no  bearing  upon  our  case." 

"I  could  easily  give  you  legal  grounds  for  divorce 
without  creating  any  public  scandal." 

"Yes,  but  you  never  have,  and  I  have  no  fear  that 
you  ever  will." 

"Don't  be  too  sure  about  that.  Your  attitude  has 
long  been  such  as  to  test  a  man's  patience,  and  even 
his  fidelity.  I  need  not  remind  you  that  upon  your 
own  initiative  we  have  for  several  years  lived  together 
merely  as  friends,  and  not  very  close  friends  at  that." 

"You  have  never  had  any  cause  to  accuse  me  of  not 
being  a  faithful  wife  to  you." 

"Faithful,  perhaps,  in  the  sense  that  you  have 
created  no  statutory  grounds  for  divorce ;  but,  very  dis 
loyal  as  far  as  our  mutual  interests  and  happiness  are 
concerned,  A  man  is  entitled  to  expect  something 

55 


CHAPTER  SIX 

more  of  his  wife  than  that  she  keep  herself  barely 
within  the  prescribed  boundaries  of  the  divorce  laws." 

"Dalney,  for  a  man  of  over  forty  years  you  talk  more 
like  a  child  than  anyone  I  ever  saw." 

"However  that  may  appear  to  you,  Margaret,  I  do 
not  regard  your  judgment  as  final.  Neither  of  us  is 
suffering  from  decrepitude,  and  I  am  determined  not 
to  continue  this  indifferent  existence  at  the  cost  of 
your  happiness  and  mine." 

"Then  what  do  you  propose  to  do?" 

"Briefly  stated,  I  propose  that  you  either  change 
your  attitude  —  which  of  course  you  will  not  —  or 
else  apply  for  a  divorce;  and  if  you  choose  not  to 
adopt  either  alternative  I  will  see  to  it  that  you  are 
given  ample  cause  for  the  latter." 

"Do  you  mean  —  am  I  to  understand  that  you 
propose  to  extort  money  from  me  under  the  threat 
that  if  I  refuse,  you  will  disgrace  me?"  she  said  indig 
nantly.  "I  can  return  your  money  to  your  bank  if 
you  want  it." 

"No,  not  at  all.  We  are  no  longer  discussing  money 
matters.  I  would  willingly  sacrifice  every  other 
wordly  consideration  and  accept  a  menial  clerkship  if 
we  could  go  back  and  live  over  the  first  year  of  our 
married  life ;  but  that  is  out  of  the  question  —  " 

"Again  I  must  say  your  reasoning  belies  your 
years,"  she  broke  in.  "You  talk  like  a  foolish  love 
lorn  swain,  Will  you  never  oAitgrow  these  absurd 

56 


AN  INTOLERABLE  SITUATION 

notions  of  yours?  How  could  we  keep  our  position  in 
society  without  money?  Do  you  imagine  that  love 
would  suffice?" 

"Society  be  damned!"  as  he  sprang  to  his  feet  and 
walked  about.  "I  might  perhaps  have  married  into 
New  York  society,  but  I  didn't.  What  I  hoped  for 
was  a  flesh  and  blood  wife  —  a  woman  with  a  heart, 
whose  interests  and  tastes  would  be  in  harmony  with 
my  own;  and  for  a  year  or  so  it  seemed  as  if  my 
dream  was  to  come  true,  —  until  this  social  fever  took 
possession  of  you.  Because  I  happened  to  have 
relatives  and  friends  who  were  able  and  willing  to 
gratify  your  social  ambitions  I  have  permitted  myself 
to  be  paraded  about  to  all  sorts  of  tedious  functions 
as  your  escort,  and  been  obliged  to  listen  to  the  shallow 
twaddle  of  people  whose  chief  ambition  in  life  is  to 
snub  those  whom  they  consider  beneath  them  socially. 
And  what  is  my  recompense?  I've  lost  my  wife, 
sacrificed  my  home  happiness,  and  frittered  away 
the  better  part  of  my  existence  to  no  purpose!" 

"Why,  Dalney,  what  has  come  over  you?  I  never 
heard  you  talk  this  way  before.  You  are  beside  your 
self.  Your  business  troubles  have  distracted  you. 
You  ought  to  keep  such  worries  to  yourself  and  not  be 
so  selfish  as  to  inflict  them  upon  others,  especially  at 
home.  Get  a  few  nights  of  sleep,  and  when  stocks 
recover  you  will  —  " 

"When  they  recover!    God !    Yes  —  indeed  I  should 

57 


CHAPTER   SIX 

feel  better;  but  they  will  recover  too  late  to  benefit 
me.  Tomorrow  promises  to  be  my  last  day." 

"Then  what  good  would  a  divorce  do  you?  And 
besides,  if  I  should  apply  for  a  divorce  now,  your 
friends  would  all  say  I  am  heartless  and  wish  to  get 
rid  of  you  because  of  your  business  misfortunes." 

Remembering  her  father,  and  who  she  was  when 
he  first  discovered  her,  and  what  his  fortune  and  name 
had  done  for  her,  the  suggestion  of  her  trying  to  get 
rid  of  him  caused  his  lip  to  curl  scornfully.  His  first 
impulse  was  to  tell  her  candidly  that  he  wished  to  be 
released  from  her  because  he  now  hated  her  as  he  had 
once  loved  her.  The  sight  of  her  sitting  there  com 
posedly  discussing  her  social  ambitions,  while  his 
whole  being  was  in  a  state  of  panic  over  his  impend 
ing  financial  ruin  exasperated  him  almost  to  the  point 
of  losing  self-control,  and  he  walked  back  and  forth 
across  the  room,  too  restless  to  sit  down.  Finally  he 
stopped  and  looked  at  her  as  she  continued  nonchalantly 
to  turn  the  leaves  of  the  magazine  that  lay  in  her  lap. 
She  had  it  within  her  power  to  relieve  his  predicament 
without  loss  or  the  slightest  inconvenience  to  herself; 
yet  there  she  sat,  calm,  cold  and  unsympathetic, 
apparently  enjoying  his  mental  anguish  and  discom 
fiture.  The  situation  was  becoming  unbearable. 
His  gentlemanly  instincts  forbade  his  saying  what  was 
uppermost  in  his  mind,  and  his  pride  forestalled  any 
further  persuasive  overtures.  His  pent  up  emotions 

58 


AN  INTOLERABLE  SITUATION 

threatened  mental  explosion,  and  he  started  to  leave 
the  room,  when  suddenly  a  tragic  idea  flashed  into  his 
mind.  By  sheer  force  of  will  power  he  spoke  calmly, 
deliberately: 

"It  is  well  you  have  money,  and  an  abundance  of 
self-complacency;  for  you  will  soon  have  great  need 
of  both." 

But  she  appeared  not  to  hear  him.  He  sank  into  his 
chair  and  rested  his  head  in  his  arms  on  the  table,  as 
he  revolved  the  new  idea  in  his  half -frantic  mind. 

Presently  he  looked  up  and  met  her  vacant,  unfeel 
ing  look.  For  a  few  moments  they  sat  gazing  at  each 
other  across  the  table.  He  rose  and  crossing  the 
room  he  stood  at  the  side  window  looking  out  into  the 
street.  It  was  obvious  that  she  had  no  intention  of 
adopting  his  suggestion.  He  saw,  too,  that  it  was 
useless  to  upbraid  her  or  to  discuss  matters  further. 
It  was  clear  that  she  regarded  him  as  useful  to  her 
merely  as  a  social  asset,  and  it  was  plainly  evident 
that  she  would  undergo  no  change  of  heart.  Driven 
to  the  last  extremity  he  clenched  his  hands  as  he 
puzzled  over  the  problems  that  had  of  late  haunted 
his  feverish  days  and  sleepless  nights;  but  only  the 
one  feasible  alternative  presented  itself. 

As  he  stood  thus  in  silent  meditation  he  heard  her 
get  up  and  leave  the  room. 


59 


CHAPTER  VII 
THE  GOOD-BY  NOTE 

At  Harvard  Tom  Farnsworth  was  one  of  the  most 
popular  young  men  in  his  class.  He  took  a  keen 
interest  in  college  sports,  and  played  right  half-back 
on  the  freshman  football  team.  With  his  room-mate 
Sidney  Peters,  he  occupied  a  lavishly  furnished  suite 
of  three  rooms,  where  the  college  boys  usually  as 
sembled  when  any  new  plot  was  in  process  of  hatch 
ing.  In  fact  the  large  "den"  was  popularly  known 
among  the  boys  as  the  "incubator-room." 

Since  his  last  year  in  "prep"  school  Tom  had  had 
an  open  checking  account  at  his  father's  bank.  Once 
only  had  he  ever  been  reminded  that  his  expenditures 
were  excessive,  and  the  unusual  size  of  the  draft  that 
brought  forth  this  initial  word  of  caution  was  due  to 
the  fact  that  he  aided  a  collegemate  out  of  a  serious 
difficulty.  It  was  his  custom  to  write  home  once  a 
week,  but  he  never  received  letters  from  home,  except 
brief  notes  from  his  father. 

It  would  be  difficult  to  imagine  two  persons  less 
alike  from  every  point  of  view  than  Tom  and  Sid. 
Tom  was  tall,  square-shouldered  and  dark  complex- 
ioned,  while  Sid  was  short,  of  slender  build,  and 
almost  flaxen-haired.  Sid  was  retiring  and  studious, 
and  always  paid  strict  attention  to  the  lectures,  while 

60 


THE   GOOD-BY   NOTE 

Tom  rarely  went  to  the  lecture  hall  but  to  study  out 
some  new  tactics  in  football,  or  how  to  promote  the 
interests  of  college  athletics.  While  Tom  had  a 
practically  unlimited  drawing  account,  Sid  was  work 
ing  his  way  through  college,  and  at  the  same  time 
helping  support  a  widowed  mother  and  two  sisters  in  a 
cramped  apartment  in  a  Boston  suburb. 

Sidney  had  tutored  Tom  when  the  latter  first  en 
tered  college,  and  as  a  result  of  this  chance  acquaint 
anceship  Tom  had  formed  a  strong  attachment  for  the 
young  man  who  was  making  a  brave  fight  in  the  face 
of  adverse  circumstances.  He  prevailed  upon  Sid  to 
share  his  apartments  with  him,  free  of  charge,  and 
insisted  upon  allowing  him  a  fixed  sum  each  month 
for  tutoring.  Although  only  twenty-one,  Sidney 
looked  all  of  thirty,  and  had  the  sober  judgment  and 
habits  of  a  man  of  mature  years.  Tom  used  to  call 
him  his  "little  old  man,"  and  whenever  he  was  con 
fronted  with  a  knotty  problem  it  was  his  custom  to 
seek  Sid's  advice,  which  was  usually  followed. 

Early  in  March  of  his  Sophomore  year  Tom  received 
a  brief,  imperative  telegram  from  his  father  to  come 
home  immediately.  Without  the  faintest  idea  of  what 
was  the  occasion  of  this  command  he  hurriedly  threw 
a  few  things  into  his  traveling  bag  and  started  for 
home.  After  a  journey  of  anxiety  and  evil  forebodings 
he  reached  home  early  in  the  night,  and  found  his 
father  alone  in  the  library,  looking  haggard  and  weary. 

61 


CHAPTER  SEVEN 

"Why,  father!  What  —  for  heaven's  sake  —  are 
you  ill?" 

"No,  —  no,  my  boy,  just  a  little  tired.  I'm  glad 
you've  come." 

"Is  mother  sick  —  why  did  you  wire  me  to  come 
in  such  a  hurry?" 

"No,  she's  quite  well.     She's  in  her  rooms." 

After  chatting  a  while  with  his  father,  Tom  started 
to  go  up  to  his  mother's  room.  His  father  called  to 
him,  — 

"A  little  later,  Tom,  please  come  to  my  room.  I 
wish  to  talk  with  you." 

Tom  hurried  up  stairs,  still  wondering  what  had 
happened.  Finding  his  mother's  door  open  he  entered 
and  found  her  with  her  maid  trying  the  effect  of  her 
latest  Paris  confection. 

"What  —  you  here?"  she  exclaimed,  with  a  look 
of  astonishment. 

Seeing  his  mother's  surprise  only  deepened  his 
anxiety,  for  his  father  had  evidently  said  nothing  to 
her  about  telegraphing  him.  He  therefore  thought 
best  not  to  question  her  until  he  had  talked  again 
with  his  father. 

After  talking  with  his  mother  a  few  minutes  he 
went  to  his  father's  apartments  and  found  him  pacing 
the  floor. 

"Sit  down,  Tom;  I  want  to  have  a  little  chat  with 
you."  For  some  minutes  he  talked  earnestly  about 

62 


THE  GOOD-BY  NOTE 

the  problems  of  life  that  usually  confront  a  young 
man,  and  how  best  to  meet  them.  He  talked  of 
college  life,  and  the  advantages  it  offered  to  a  young 
man  starting  in  the  world;  and  of  the  necessity  for 
due  regard  for  the  rights  and  feelings  of  others. 

"If  ever  you  marry,  Tom,  remember  this  advice: 
never  permit  yourself  to  fall  in  love  with  a  girl  too 
far  above  or  below  your  worldly  position.  Marriage 
is  a  highly  momentous  affair;  it  may  be  the  making 
or  damnation  of  a  man." 

"Why,  how  strangely  you  talk,  father;  what  has 
stirred  you  up  so?  I  never  saw  you  like  this  before." 

"I  am  in  deep  trouble,  Tom.  A  great  calamity  has 
overtaken  me ;  and  I'm  going  away  on  a  long  journey. 
You  will  soon  know  all  about  it.  During  my  absence 
you  will  draw  your  checks  on  another  bank.  I  have 
made  a  deposit  there  in  your  name  —  an  ample 
amount  to  cover  your  expenses  for  at  least  two  years." 

He  then  handed  Tom  the  new  check  book,  with 
the  remark:  "The  deposit  is  entered  in  the  front,  and 
you  will  arrange  your  expenditures  accordingly." 
Clasping  Tom  in  his  arms  he  said  in  a  tremulous 
voice :  — 

"Good  night,  my  boy  —  good-by.     God  bless  you !" 

Greatly  alarmed  by  his  father's  strange  actions, 
Tom  hurried  back  to  his  mother's  sitting  room.  In 
response  to  a  rap  at  her  door  he  heard  her  call  - 

"What  is  it?" 

63 


CHAPTER  SEVEN 

"It's  me,  mother  —  may  I  come  in?"  and  without 
waiting  for  an  answer  he  opened  the  door  and  rushed 
in. 

Clad  now  in  a  luxurious  peignoir,  she  sat  reading 
before  the  fireplace. 

"Mother,  what's  happened  to  Dad?  Where's  he 
going?  Are  you  going  away  with  him?" 

"Going  away?  No  —  going  where?"  she  asked, 
with  no  apparent  emotion. 

"Why,  father  just  told  me  that  he's  going  on  a 
long  trip,  and  he  acted  terribly  strange  —  seemed  all 
broke    up    about    something.     Tell    me,    mother  - 
what's  up?     What's  this  calamity  he  spoke  off?" 

"Why,  haven't  you  heard?" 

"Heard  what?  No.  I've  heard  nothing,"  he  said 
excitedly. 

She  calmly  told  him  that  as  a  result  of  the  great 
panic,  his  father's  bank  had  closed  its  doors,  and 
most,  or  perhaps  all,  of  his  fortune  had  been  swept 
away. 

Tom  dropped  into  a  nearby  chair  and  stared  at  her 
with  a  dazed  look  in  his  eyes. 

"But  why  is  he  going  on  a  long  journey,  and  why 
did  he  put  ten  thousand  dollars  in  another  bank  for 
me?" 

"I've  heard  nothing  about  his  intention  of  going 
away,"  she  said  coldly,  with  a  slight  shrug  of  her 
shoulders. 

64 


THE   GOOD-BY   NOTE 

"Oh,  mother!  what  a  terrible  thing  for  us  all!" 
Then  after  a  moment's  pause,  "I  suppose  even  your 
money  couldn't  save  him.  But,  mother,  I'll  quit 
college,  and  that  ten  thousand  dollars  will  keep  us 
all  from  starving  until  father  can  get  on  his  feet 
again." 

"Oh,  no  doubt  we  shall  manage.  I've  lost  nothing 
to  speak  of.  I  had  only  a  few  thousand  dollars  in 
your  father's  bank,  and  I  drew  that  out  just  before  he 
failed.  My  securities  and  passbooks  are  all  secure  in 
my  safe  deposit  box  down  at  the  Union  Trust." 

Tom  got  up  and  stood,  back  to  the  fire,  scowling  at 
his  mother  in  reproachful  astonishment. 

"For  heaven's  sake!  Mother,  are  you  talking  in 
your  sleep?  Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  that  you  knew 
this  was  going  to  happen  when  you  drew  out  that 
money?" 

"No,  not  for  certain,  but  for  three  or  four  nights 
your  father  walked  the  floor  of  his  room  all  night 
long  without  touching  his  bed,  and  I  suspected  some 
thing  was  wrong.  Then  he  told  me  of  his  troubles 
and  asked  me  to  lend  him  some  money  —  and  next 
morning  I  drew  a  check  for  my  balance  and  deposited 
it  in  another  bank." 

"Then  of  course  you  lost  the  money  you  lent  him?" 

"No,  I  didn't  lend  it  to  him." 

"What?  You  refused  to  help  him?"  his  lips  quiver 
ing  with  scorn. 

65 


CHAPTER  SEVEN 

She  met  his  stare  with  unresponsive  indifference, 
and  wheeling  about  abruptly  he  left  the  room  and 
slammed  the  door  behind  him. 

"By  all  the  Olympic  gods,  what  d'you  think  of 
that !"  he  exclaimed  aloud  as  he  left  the  room.  Reach 
ing  his  own  room  he  sat  and  pondered  over  the  start 
ling  developments  of  the  last  hour,  hoping  it  was  all 
a  wretched  dream.  Finally  he  got  up  and  moved 
about  to  see  if  he  were  really  awake;  then  lighting 
his  pipe  he  puffed  vigorously  at  it  as  he  walked  the 
floor.  A  little  later  his  attention  was  attracted  by  a 
footstep  in  the  hall.  He  went  to  his  door  and  as  he 
stood  listening  he  heard  someone  going  down  the 
stairs.  Going  to  the  head  of  the  stairway,  he  heard 
the  front  door  close;  but  hearing  nothing  more,  he 
returned  to  his  room. 

Unable  longer  to  stand  the  suspense  regarding  his 
father's  misfortunes,  he  went  to  his  room,  determined 
to  learn  more  of  the  circumstances.  The  door  stood 
open,  and  receiving  no  response  to  his  call  he  stepped 
inside  and  found  the  bed  undisturbed.  Turning  on 
the  light,  he  saw  by  the  clock  on  the  mantel  that  it 
was  past  two  o'clock. 

He  hastened  to  his  mother's  room,  roused  her 
from  her  slumber,  and  asked  if  she  knew  where  his 
father  was.  In  a  drowsy  sort  of  way  she  remarked 
that  he  had  perhaps  gone  to  his  office,  and  with  a 
yawn  she  inquired  why  he  was  up  so  early. 

66 


THE  GOOD-BY  NOTE 

"Early !  it's  not  early  —  it's  late.  I  haven't  been  to 
bed  yet." 

"Oh  go  to  bed,  Tom  —  I'll  see  you  in  the  morning," 
she  said  as  she  turned  on  her  side  and  closed  her 
eyes. 

Tom  spent  the  remainder  of  the  night  with  his 
thoughts  in  a  state  of  panic.  Once  he  tiptoed  to  the 
door  of  his  mother's  sleeping  room,  and  gently  opened 
it.  She  lay  sleeping  as  peacefully  as  a  babe,  with  one 
arm  across  her  breast  and  the  other  curved  above  her 
head.  The  arc  lamp  in  the  street  cast  a  shimmer  of 
light  through  the  large  window  on  her  beautiful 
features  and  she  looked  the  picture  of  tranquility. 

"She  must  be  a  cold  one!"  he  mused,  "to  lie  there 
and  sleep  like  that,  when  poor  Dad  is  worried  almost 
to  death  and  hasn't  slept  for  four  nights." 

Late  next  morning,  as  Tom  sat  with  his  mother  at 
the  breakfast  table  discussing  the  happenings  of  the 
previous  night,  the  butler  announced  that  there  was 
a  police  officer  in  the  front  hall  who  wished  to  see 
Mrs.  Farnsworth. 

"Never  mind,  mother,  I'll  go,"  said  Tom,  as  he 
sprang  up  and  hurried  out. 

"What  can  I  do  for  you?"  he  inquired  of  the  officer. 

"I  want  to  see  Mrs.  Farnsworth  on  important  busi 
ness,"  he  said,  as  he  held  out  a  small  traveling  bag, 
stamped  with  the  initials  "J.  D.  F.,"  which  Tom 
recognized  as  belonging  to  his  father. 

67 


CHAPTER  SEVEN 

"We  found  this  down  at  the  North  River  pier. 
There  are  some  papers  in  it,  and  a  note  to  Mrs.  Farns- 
worth." 

Opening  the  bag  the  officer  took  out  an  envelope, 
remarking  that  he  wished  to  place  it  in  the  hands  of 
Mrs.  Farnsworth  herself.  At  this  juncture  Tom's 
mother  appeared,  and  grasping  the  envelope  her  lips 
quivered  as  she  read: — 

Dear  Midge:  Forgive  me,  but  I  simply  couldn't  say 
good-by.  You  were  sleeping  peacefully  when  I 
looked  upon  your  face  tonight  —  for  the  last  time. 

My  affairs  are  hopelessly  involved.  When  stocks 
recover,  as  they  surely  will,  there  will  be  enough  to 
pay  off  all  creditors,  with  perhaps  a  small  equity  for 
you  and  Tom.  Two  hundred  thousand  dollars  would 
have  saved  more  than  a  million,  but  I  couldn't  raise 
it  in  these  turbulent  times. 

I  am  not  a  coward  —  I  could  face  the  world  and 
begin  over  again  without  a  dollar;  but  there's  no 
incentive.  The  financial  loss,  though  large,  was 
comparatively  nothing.  The  discovery  of  how  com 
pletely  I  had  lost  both  your  love  and  confidence  un 
nerved  me,  and  now  that  my  fortune  is  gone  I  have 
nothing  left  to  live  for. 

I  have  cashed  in  my  two  endowment  policies,  and 
placed  ten  thousand  of  the  equity  in  the  bank  for 
Tom.  The  remainder  has  been  turned  over  to  the 

68 


THE  GOOD-BY  NOTE 

receiver  for  my  creditors.  The  other  two  policies  I 
destroyed  —  I  couldn't  bear  to  rob  the  insurance 
companies.  Good-by  — 

DALNEY. 

"My  God!  what  does  it  mean?  What  has  he  done?" 
she  exclaimed  as  she  handed  the  letter  to  Tom. 

"What  has  he  done !  You'll  find  the  answer  if  you 
ask  yourself  what  you  have  done."  Then  snatching 
up  his  hat  he  went  out  onto  the  street. 

As  he  straggled  along  he  tried  to  picture  his  father's 
melancholy  state  of  mind  that  could  have  driven  him 
to  take  his  life.  He  walked  down  a  few  blocks,  then 
crossing  over,  boarded  a  down-town  car,  scarcely 
realizing  where  he  was  going. 

He  heard  a  newsboy  shout,  "Extry!  All  about  the 
suicide!"  and  as  the  boy  entered  the  car  he  snatched 
a  paper  from  him.  A  two-column  headline  caught 
his  eye  - 

"Ruined  Banker  Suicides  —  Millions  Lost  in  Crash 
of  Great  Banking  House." 

Reading  on  he  came  upon  the  statement  that  his 
mother  was  a  rich  heiress,  and  was  reputed  to  have 
a  million  dollars  in  her  own  right.  It  was  assumed 
that  her  private  fortune  had  been  lost  in  the  downfall 
of  her  husband's  bank. 

His  father  was  referred  to  in  the  highest  terms  as  a 
man  of  probity  and  business  sagacity,  and  it  was 

69 


CHAPTER  SEVEN 

stated  that,  in  keeping  with  his  established  reputation 
for  honesty  and  upright  dealings,  he  had  surrendered 
two  large  insurance  policies  to  the  companies  in  order 
that  they  might  suffer  no  loss  as  a  result  of  his  de 
plorable  and  demented  act. 

The  banking  firm  had  long  stood  among  the  con 
servative  financial  institutions  in  the  city,  and  had  a 
large  following  among  the  most  circumspect  investors. 
In  years  past  they  had  underwritten  the  bonds  and 
stocks  of  many  large  corporations,  and  owing  to  their 
exceptional  clientele  they  were  always  highly  success 
ful  in  these  undertakings. 

It  stated,  furthermore,  that  Mr.  Farnsworth  was  a 
graduate  of  Harvard,  as  was  also  his  father  before 
him,  and  gave  the  names  of  several  fashionable  clubs 
and  secret  orders  of  which  he  was  a  member. 

"His  proud  spirit,"  it  went  on  to  say,  "was  broken 
by  the  loss  of  his  long  established  prestige,  and  the 
shock  was  so  great  that  it  momentarily  overthrew  his 
reason. 

"The  needy  never  left  his  door  empty-handed,  and 
many  of  the  charitable  organizations  in  this  city 
numbered  him  among  their  most  generous  contrib 
utors.  In  addition  he  gave  liberally  to  private 
charities,  unknown  even  to  the  members  of  his  own 
family  and  close  friends. 

"He  was  born  in  New  York  City,  which  has  been 
his  home  for  more  than  forty  years.  At  the  age  of 

70 


THE  GOOD-BY   NOTE 

twenty-one  he  inherited  the  bulk  of  his  father's  large 
fortune  made  in  the  importing  business,"  etc. 

After  reading  the  account,  Tom  began  desperately 
to  recall  the  words  his  father  had  spoken  to  him  the 
night  before.  It  was  in  vain  that  he  tried  to  think  of 
his  father  as  dead.  "Impossible!  I  can't  believe  it! 
I'll  never  believe  it  until  I  have  more  proof  than  there 
is  in  that  letter;"  for  there  was  really  no  direct  state 
ment  of  suicidal  intention  in  the  note  to  his  mother. 

The  mention  of  the  destruction  of  the  life  insurance 
policies  would  of  course  imply  self-homicide,  but 
might  not  he  have  thought  that  the  beneficiary  would 
attempt  to  collect  the  insurance  upon  the  mere  pre 
sumption  that  the  insured  was  dead?  He  remem 
bered,  too,  that  his  father  had  always  had  an  abiding 
horror  of  death,  and  firmly  believed  in  eternal  punish 
ment.  Then,  again,  the  body  had  not  yet  been  found. 

With  the  idea  of  at  once  instituting  a  search,  Tom 
got  off  at  the  first  drug  store  and  consulted  a  directory 
for  the  address  of  some  detective  agency.  Finding 
one  that  he  knew  by  reputation  he  made  an  appoint 
ment  by  telephone  to  have  a  detective  meet  him  at  the 
house  that  afternoon.  He  then  returned  home,  and 
found  his  mother  prostrated,  and  under  the  care  of 
the  family  physician. 

A  number  of  newspaper  reporters  called,  but  they 
were  denied  an  interview  and  told  that  there  was  no 
report  to  be  given  out. 

71 


CHAPTER  SEVEN 

In  the  early  afternoon  Mr.  Farnsworth's  business 
partner,  Mr.  Burleigh,  called  and  had  a  long  interview 
with  Tom.  He  said  that  the  collateral  on  one  demand 
loan  had  been  closed  out,  but  that  the  market  had 
recovered  several  points,  and  the  outlook  was  more 
hopeful.  The  bank  that  had  called  a  large  loan  on 
the  day  of  the  failure  was  now  willing  to  extend  the 
time,  since  the  market  value  of  the  pledged  securities 
had  materially  increased.  If  the  firm  could  raise  two 
hundred  thousand  dollars,  all  of  the  urgent  demands 
could  be  met  and  the  Company's  credit  could  be  saved. 

"If  I  could  see  your  mother  for  a  moment,"  he 
said,  "I  think  I  could  persuade  her  to  lend  the  support 
necessary  to  save  your  father's  name." 

Tom  hurried  up  to  his  mother's  room  but  she 
was  then  under  an  opiate,  and  the  doctor  forbade  an 
interview. 

After  explaining  conditions  to  the  doctor,  Tom  was 
told  that  perhaps  by  the  next  morning  his  mother 
might  be  well  enough  to  be  interviewed  for  a  few 
moments,  and  it  was  arranged  that  Mr.  Burleigh 
should  come  again. 

A  little  later  a  young  man  called  and  reported  that 
he  had  been  sent  by  the  detective  agency  in  response 
to  a  telephone  call.  Tom  related  the  interview  of  the 
night  before  with  his  father;  how  he  had  disappeared 
in  the  night,  and  that  early  next  morning  his  small 
handbag  had  been  found  on  the  pier  by  the  police. 

72 


THE  GOOD-BY  NOTE 

The  man  remarked  that,  "if  he  left  the  house  with 
the  deliberate  intention  of  committing  suicide  he 
would  scarcely  have  encumbered  himself  with  a 
traveling  bag.  I  see  this  is  a  very  small  bag;  did 
your  father  have  any  other  —  a  large  one?" 

"Why,  yes,  he  had  a  large  bag,"  Tom  said,  as  he 
jumped  up  and  pressed  a  button  at  the  desk.  In  a 
moment  the  butler  appeared. 

"Simpson,  where's  my  father's  large  traveling 
bag?" 

"I  don't  know,  sir;  he  asked  me  to  take  it  to  his 
room  yesterday." 

Tom  sprang  up  the  stairs,  three  at  a  jump,  and 
dashed  into  his  father's  suite.  The  bag  was  nowhere 
to  be  seen.  As  he  returned  he  met  the  butler  at  the 
foot  of  the  stairs,  holding  a  small  oval  picture  frame. 

"I  found  this  in  your  father's  room,  sir,  with  the 
glass  broken  out.  It's  the  frame  of  Mrs.  Farnsworth's 
picture,  and  it  used  to  stand  on  your  father's  chif 
fonier." 

Tom  seized  the  frame  and  rushed  through  the  hall 
into  the  room  where  the  detective  sat  making  some 
memoranda  in  a  note  book. 

"He's  living!  He's  alive!"  he  shouted  as  he  held 
out  the  frame.  The  bag  is  gone,  and  look!  he's 
taken  my  mother's  girlhood  picture  with  him.  Good 
God !  if  we  only  knew  where  to  find  him  —  now  that 
the  market  is  recovering !" 

73 


CHAPTER  SEVEN 

"That  will  be  comparatively  easy,"  said  the  detec 
tive,  reassuringly.  "Your  father  was  a  private 
banker,  I  believe?" 

"Yes,"  nodded  Tom. 

"And  he  had  more  or  less  dealings  in  western 
mining  stocks,  didn't  he?" 

"Yes,  I  think  he  did;  but  what's  that  got  to  do 
with  finding  him  now?" 

"It  may  have  a  great  deal  to  do  with  it.  Have 
you  a  late  photograph?" 

Tom  disappeared  and  soon  returned  with  a  photo 
graph  which  he  said  had  been  taken  about  a  year 
before. 

"H-m-m,  let's  see  —  a  man  about  forty ;  smooth 
shaven  face,  dark  hair,  and  rather  a  square  fore 
head,"  said  the  detective. 

After  acquainting  himself  with  all  the  obtainable 
facts  the  detective  cautioned  Tom  not  to  give  out  any 
information,  and  left  the  house. 

"I'll  just  do  this  quietly  on  my  own  account,  and 
say  nothing  to  mother  about  it,"  thought  Tom  as  he 
stood  musing  over  the  affair. 

Next  morning  Mr.  Burleigh  called  and  was  ushered 
into  Mrs.  Farnsworth's  boudoir,  where  she  reclined 
in  an  arm  chair. 

After  a  brief  explanation  of  how  affairs  stood,  Mrs. 
Farnsworth  said: 

"Mr,  Burleigh,  I  believe  my  husband  always  trusted 

74 


THE  GOOD-BY  NOTE 

and  admired  you  as  a  man  of  honor  and  good  judg 
ment.  Tell  me  frankly,  how  much  will  be  required 
to  save  the  firm?" 

"It  would  now  seem  that  two  hundred  thousand 
dollars  will  be  ample,  considering  that  market  values 
are  advancing.  If  there  should  be  another  slump  in 
prices,  it  might  require  a  little  more." 

"Then  would  I  obtain  control  of  the  business,  and 
benefit  by  the  recovery  of  the  stocks?" 

"Yes,  you  and  your  son,  when  he  becomes  of  age, 
would  have  absolute  control  of  the  business.  I  have 
only  a  fourth  interest  in  the  firm,  and  of  course  would 
have  no  interest  in  the  amount  you  lend,  further  than 
what  it  would  save  for  me  as  a  partner." 

"Then  in  that  case  I  will  furnish  the  necessary 
amount  at  once.  I  have  talked  the  matter  over  with 
my  son,  and  I  wish  you  to  assume  charge  of  affairs, 
and  take  him  in  to  learn  the  business." 


CHAPTER  VIII 
THE  MAN  HUNT 

Shortly  after  the  Farnsworth  &  Company  suspen 
sion,  when  the  bank  was  again  open  for  business, 
Miss  Bellinger  called  and  asked  if  there  was  any  news 
about  Mr.  Farnsworth,  and  was  told  there  was  none. 

"I  wonder  if  you  have  any  record  of  the  stock 
certificates  I  left  with  him?"  she  asked  of  Mr.  Bur- 
leigh.  He  went  to  Tom  —  who  had  taken  his  father's 
desk  in  the  bank  —  and  found  that  the  certificates 
had  been  discovered  in  the  office.  On  being  intro 
duced  to  Tom,  Miss  Bellinger  told  him  of  the  arrange 
ment  under  which  she  had  worked  for  his  father, 
covering  a  period  of  nearly  a  year.  He  learned  upon 
inquiring  of  the  head  bookkeeper  that  there  was  no 
record  in  the  office  of  any  money  paid  her  as  salary, 
or  advanced  on  the  stock.  But  the  cashier  said  he  had 
given  her  money  each  week  and  charged  it  to  Mr.Farns- 
worth's  personal  account;  that  at  the  end  of  every 
month  he  gave  her  considerable  sums  of  money,  also 
for  Mr.  Farnsworth's  account,  which  he  understood  was 
to  pay  bills  incurred  in  her  work.  Returning  to  his  pri 
vate  office  where  Miss  Bellinger  sat  waiting,  he  said,  — 

"I  can  learn  nothing  about  the  value  of  this  stock, 
but  it  you  like  I  will  write  to  our  correspondent  at 
Colorado  Springs  and  inquire  about  it." 

76 


THE   MAN  HUNT 

"I  am  afraid,"  said  Miss  Bellinger,  "that  it  will  be 
a  useless  bother.  I  have  half  suspected  all  along  that 
your  father  gave  me  the  extra  money  entirely  out  of 
the  goodness  of  his  heart.  My  father  always  spoke 
so  highly  of  him  as  a  generous-hearted  man." 

He  glanced  up  quickly  —  "Are  you  a  daughter  of 
the  late  Harvey  Bellinger?" 

"Yes;  did  you  know  my  father?" 

"No,  but  I  knew  of  him.  If  you  are  not  otherwise 
engaged,  I  should  like  to  have  this  work  continued 
in  memory  of  my  father,  if  you  will  look  after  it  as 
you  did  for  him." 

"In  memory  of  your  father!"  she  exclaimed  with  a 
pained  look  —  "Are  you  sure  he  is  really  dead?" 

"No,  I'm  not  certain,"  he  replied,  wondering  what 
grounds  she  had  for  asking  such  a  question. 

She  said  she  would  gladly  continue   the  work  — 
"But  I  shall  only  expect  the  amount  he  allowed  me 
as  salary,"  she  added. 

As  she  got  up  to  go  she  looked  inquiringly  at  Tom 
for  a  moment,  then  asked,  — 

"Do  you  really  believe  that  your  father  could  have 
committed  suicide?" 

"No,  I  have  never  believed  it." 

"Neither  do  I,"  she  said,  as  she  turned  and  left  the 
office  to  hide  her  rising  emotions.  Tom's  eyes  fol 
lowed  her  until  she  passed  out  of  sight. 

"By  Jove !  that  girl's  a  stunner.     I'll  bet  she  would 

77 


CHAPTER  EIGHT 

be  worth  all  the  detectives  in  town  to  hunt  for  father. 
I  wonder  if  she  would!  I'll  just  ask  her  next  time 
she  comes  in." 

He  wrote  to  their  correspondents  at  Colorado 
Springs  and  learned  that  the  mine  on  which  the  stock 
was  issued  had  been  sold  some  years  ago  under  fore 
closure  of  a  mortgage,  and  that  the  stock  was  worth 
less. 

"Just  like  father,"  he  mused;  "he  knew  it  wasn't 
worth  a  cent.  And  he  also  read  that  girl's  character 
well  enough  to  know  that  she  wouldn't  accept  the 
extra  money  if  he  told  her  the  truth  about  it." 

He  told  his  mother  of  the  interview  and  of  what 
his  father  had  done,  but  said  nothing  about  his  inten 
tion  of  continuing  the  arrangement,  for  he  knew  she 
would  have  no  sympathy  with  the  plan. 

"Yes,"  she  said,  "he  was  always  looking  after  the 
heathenish  poor,  and  if  he  had  been  less  prodigal  in 
dispensing  alms  he  might  have  been  alive  and  pros 
perous  today." 

"Yes,  mother,  and  if  you  had  been  a  little  more 
prodigal  he  might  still  have  been  alive  and  prosper 
ous,  too." 

"Oh,  please,  please,  Tom!  the  Lord  knows  I  have 
gone  through  enough  already." 

Though  Tom  pitied  her,  he  felt  that  any  suffering 
she  had  undergone  was  but  a  just  recompense  for  her 
cold-heartedness.  "There,  there,  mother,"  he  said, 

78 


THE  MAN  HUNT 

"perhaps  father  isn't  dead  after  all;  and  we  may 
find  him  yet." 

She  glanced  up  quickly  —  "Why?  have  you  heard 
anything?" 

"No,  but  Miss  Bellinger  seems  like  a  bright  girl,  and 
I've  a  notion  to  ask  her  to  do  a  little  detective  work 
in  hunting  for  him.  She's  the  girl,  you  know,  that's 
been  doing  work  in  the  slums  for  him." 

Hesitating  a  moment,  his  mother  asked,  a  little 
dubiously,  "Tom,  who  is  this  girl?  Do  you  know 
anything  about  her?" 

"No,  except  that  she's  a  daughter  of  Harvey  Bel 
linger.  He  lost  all  his  money  before  he  died,  and 
father  gave  her  a  position.  You  know  Mr.  Bellinger 
was  one  of  father's  closest  friends." 

"Yes,  I  know.  But  do  you  suppose  she's  interested 
in  him?" 

"Why,  no,  mother;   what  ridiculous  suspicions!" 

"But  you  are  only  a  young  man,  Tom,  and  you 
don't  know  the  ways  of  the  world.  Many  a  girl  has 
unconsciously  fallen  in  love  with  her  benefactor. 
Did  she  volunteer  to  search  for  him?" 

"No,  I  haven't  even  mentioned  the  matter  to  her. 
She's  a  mighty  stunning  creature,  though,  and  I 
wouldn't  hesitate  to  get  lost  myself  if  I  thought  she'd 
hunt  for  me,"  he  said,  without  sympathizing  with 
her  apparent  mistrust. 

The  next  time  Miss  Bellinger  came  into  the  office 

79 


CHAPTER   EIGHT 

Tom  asked  her  if  she  knew  anyone  she  could  get  to 
take  her  place  for  a  while. 

"No,  I  can  think  of  no  one  just  this  moment,  but 
possibly  I  could  find  somebody.     Why  do  you  ask  — 
has  my  past  work  been  found  unsatisfactory?" 

"No,  no;  not  that;  but  I  have  something  more 
important  that  I  wish  you  would  do  for  me.  I  want 
you  to  help  me  find  my  father." 

"But  where  should  I  go  to  hunt  for  him?"  she  asked 
with  a  surprised  look. 

"I  don't  know  —  anywhere  you  think  he  might  be 
found." 

She  gazed  unseeingly  at  the  rug  for  a  few  moments, 
lost  in  meditation,  while  Tom  watched  her  closely, 
wondering  what  was  passing  through  her  mind.  At 
length  she  raised  her  eyes  quickly  and  met  his  gaze. 
The  sudden  illumination  in  her  face  almost  caused 
him  to  start  from  his  chair. 

"Your  father  was  interested  in  some  western  mines 
wasn't  he?" 

"Yes,"  said  Tom  eagerly,  remembering  also  that 
this  same  question  had  been  asked  by  the  detective. 

"And  isn't  it  probable  that  his  first  thought  would 
be  to  go  out  West  and  get  in  among  the  mine 
owners?" 

"Yes,  but  the  detectives  have  been  all  over  that 
ground  and  we've  posted  the  mining  country  with 
notices  of  the  reward." 

80 


THE   MAN   HUNT 

"Which  of  course  would  have  driven  him  away,  or 
into  close  confinement,  if  he  were  there,"  she  said 
despairingly. 

"I  could  give  you  a  letter  of  credit  on  our  Denver 
correspondents,  if  you  think  anything  can  be  accom 
plished,  and  you  could  work  from  there.  It  seems 
like  an  absurd  notion,  sending  you  out  there,  but  the 
work  you've  been  doing  has  probably  taught  you  how 
to  get  about  and  take  care  of  yourself." 

"Yes,  I've  learned  a  great  deal  in  the  past  few 
months.  If  I  go  I  will  take  the  names  of  all  the 
firms  and  banks  he  had  dealings  with  anywhere  in  the 
mining  districts.  Possibly  he  may  have  called  on 
some  of  them  if  he's  out  there." 

"That's  a  wild  country  for  a  girl  of  your  appear 
ance  and  years  —  hadn't  I  better  send  someone  along 
to  accompany  you?" 

"No,  I  prefer  to  go  alone,  if  I  may  have  a  few  letters 
of  introduction." 

"You  shall  have  anything  you  need,  regardless  of 
cost.  But  are  you  really  brave  enough  to  make  this 
trip  alone,  without  knowing  the  people  or  the  country?" 

"Yes,  I  think  so.  —  Oh,  I  do  so  wish  that  we  could 
find  him,"  she  said,  growing  quite  exultant  over  the 
prospect.  She  manifested  such  a  lively  interest  in 
the  undertaking  that  Tom  set  to  wondering  if  after 
all  there  might  not  be  some  grounds  for  his  mother's 
distrust.  However,  that  made  no  difference,  for 

81 


CHAPTER  EIGHT 

what  he  most  desired  was  to  find  his  father,  no  matter 
who  might  be  in  love  with  him. 

"Who  but  a  woman  would  ever  have  dreamed  of 
such  a  suspicion!"  he  mused.  "Poor  man!  he  didn't 
get  much  comfort  at  home,  and  I  wouldn't  blame  him 
a  bit  if  he  did  interest  himself  in  someone  else.  Men 
ought  to  have  something  besides  their  office  affairs 
to  divert  their  minds  occasionally.  But  this  is  the 
first  time  I  ever  knew  mother  to  be  jealous." 

Next  morning  when  Tom  arrived  at  the  bank  he 
found  Miss  Bellinger  waiting  there.  She  did  not 
appear  as  cheerful  as  she  had  been  the  day  before, 
and  her  enthusiasm  had  apparently  waned.  At 
length  she  said, — 

"Mr.  Farnsworth,  I  don't  wish  to  intrude  into  your 
family  matters,  but  assuming  that  we  are  correct  in 
supposing  your  father  to  be  alive,  do  you  think  it  was 
his  business  reverses  alone  that  caused  him  to  go 
away?  And  in  case  we  should  find  him,  suppose  he 
refuses  to  return  home?" 

He  was  puzzled  as  to  how  to  answer  the  first  ques 
tion,  and  he  marveled  at  his  own  stupidity  in  that 
the  second  one  had  never  before  occurred  to  him. 
At  first  he  was  averse  to  disclosing  any  family  secrets, 
but  if  she  was  to  work  intelligently,  it  seemed  best 
that  she  know  all  the  facts.  Again  he  wished  to 
defend  his  father  against  any  charge  of  cowardliness 
in  fleeing  from  his  creditors. 

82 


THE   MAN   HUNT 

"In  justice  to  my  father,  I  must  say  that  it  was 
neither  the  fear  of  his  creditors  nor  the  shame  of  his 
failure  that  drove  him  away.  He  was  a  proud,  but 
fearless,  man;  and  he  had  ample  confidence  and 
ability  to  recover  his  fortune  if  his  domestic  life  had 
been  happy." 

"I  thought  as  much,"  she  said. 

He  explained  to  her  about  the  failure  and  his 
mother's  refusal  to  lend  any  aid  until  after  the  sus 
pension  and  his  father's  disappearance. 

"Then  that  accounts  for  the  story  printed  in  one  of 
the  morning  papers,"  she  said,  as  she  drew  a  clipping 
from  her  handbag,  and  watched  him  while  he  read  it. 

It  was  reported  in  the  newspaper  article  that  the 
temporary  suspension  of  Farnsworth  &  Company 
was  precipitated  by  the  withdrawal  of  a  large  sum  of 
money  by  Mrs.  Farnsworth  from  her  husband's  bank. 
As  a  motive  for  her  act  in  thus  hastening  his  ruin  at 
this  critical  time  it  was  pointed  out  that  one  of  Mr. 
Farnsworth's  junior  partners  had  visited  her  fre 
quently  of  late,  and  he  was  now  an  important  factor 
in  the  resuscitated  concern.  Recently  she  had  in 
duced  her  husband  to  transfer  their  magnificent  home 
on  Riverside  Drive  over  into  her  name,  and  shortly 
thereafter  she  had  deposited  a  large  sum  of  money, 
subject  to  check,  in  his  bank;  and  conniving  with 
her  husband's  trusted  business  associate  she  had 
watched  her  opportunity  to  crush  him. 

83 


CHAPTER   EIGHT 

It  was  even  hinted  that  knowing  his  proud  spirit 
she  anticipated  the  fatal  results  which  followed. 
This  theory  was  sustained  by  the  fact  that  immediately 
after  her  husband's  suicide  she  held  a  long  consulta 
tion  with  one  of  his  partners,  and  that  she  drew  a 
quarter  of  a  million  dollars  in  cash  from  various 
banks,  which  was  placed  in  the  hands  of  the  receiver 
of  the  crippled  concern,  thereby  enabling  him  to  take 
up  a  large  amount  of  stocks  and  bonds  that  had  been 
pledged  as  collateral  in  loans. 

It  was  stated  that  in  one  loan  where  the  market 
value  of  the  railroad  and  industrial  stocks  had  shrunk 
below  the  margin  of  safety,  and  were  likely  to  be 
sacrificed  at  any  moment,  she  had  substituted  state 
and  city  bonds  and  taken  out  the  stocks.  When  the 
market  recovered,  the  net  increase  in  the  value  of  the 
stocks  securing  this  one  loan  would  amount  to  a  quar 
ter  of  a  million. 

In  short,  she  had  got  rid  of  her  husband  and  added 
more  than  a  million  dollars  to  her  already  ample 
fortune.  She  had  outwitted  one  of  Wall  Street's 
shrewdest  financiers,  and  it  was  furthermore  stated 
that  this  coup  de  grace  would  be  remembered  as  one 
of  the  most  pathetic  tragedies  in  the  history  of  Wall 
Street. 

Miss  Bellinger  saw  Tom's  lip  curl  as  he  read  the 
defamatory  statements,  which  he  knew  were  false. 

"It's  bad  enough  at  best,"    he  said,  "but  there's 

84 


THE   MAN   HUNT 

scarcely  a  word  of  truth  in  the  whole  account,  except 
that  she  did  put  a  large  sum  of  money  into  the  busi 
ness,  merely  as  a  temporary  loan.  The  statement 
about  my  mother's  conduct  with  my  father's  partner 
is  as  groundless  as  it  is  scandalous  and  malicious." 

"But  is  there  no  way  of  refuting  such  scurrilous 
statements?"  she  asked. 

"Yes,  but  this  sort  of  yellow  journalism  has  the 
advantage  of  us  after  all.  The  more  you  air  your 
family  affairs  in  the  papers  the  more  it  gives  the 
scandal-mongers  to  write  about.  The  public  is  hun 
gry  for  just  this  sort  of  thing,  and  if  every  respectable 
newspaper  in  the  city  were  to  print  a  whole  column 
of  denial  the  readers  wouldn't  be  especially  interested 
in  it." 

"Can't  you  sue  them  for  libel?" 

"Yes;  but  did  you  ever  hear  of  anyone  getting 
anything  out  of  a  libel  suit  except  a  lot  of  advertising? 
The  less  said  about  such  matters  the  better  you  are 
off  in  the  long-run." 

"Perhaps  you  are  right,  —  but  I  should  like  to  get 
back  at  that  reporter,"  she  said  bitterly. 

"Now,  as  to  father  returning,  if  we  should  find  him. 
I  guess  we  needn't  bother  ourselves  about  that  for 
the  present.  If  you  locate  him  you  can  telegraph  me 
and  I  will  come  at  once ;  then  if  I  can't  persuade  him 
to  return  I  can  at  least  visit  him  and  perhaps  help  him," 
he  said  as  she  was  leaving  the  office. 

85 


CHAPTER  EIGHT 

Tom  sat  for  some  time  thinking  about  the  news 
paper  article.  "My!  but  won't  mother's  society 
friends  be  shocked  when  they  see  that!  She'll  have 
to  reef  her  social  sails  now  for  good." 

A  few  days  later  Miss  Bellinger  left  for  Denver, 
armed  with  several  letters  of  introduction  to  Farns- 
worth  &  Company's  correspondents  in  the  West,  and 
a  letter  of  credit  on  a  Denver  bank.  In  due  time  she 
reported  her  arrival,  but  said  she  had  found  no  trace 
of  the  missing  man.  She  said  she  would  visit  Lead- 
ville,  Victor  and  other  mining  centers,  where  she  had 
letters  of  introduction. 

A  week  later  she  reported  from  Victor,  Colorado: 
"For  three  days  I  have  been  looking  for  a  'tall  man' 
whose  description  and  actions  aroused  my  suspicions; 
but  my  hopes  were  all  blasted  when  I  located  him 
today."  And  Tom's  eyes  widened  perceptibly  when 
he  read  her  P.  S. — "Girls  appear  to  be  scarce  out 
here  —  I've  already  had  one  proposal  of  marriage, 
and  am  threatened  with  another.  They  appear  to 
believe  in  coming  to  the  point  quickly  out  in  this 
'wooly'  country." 

That  was  the  last  letter  Tom  received  from  her, 
and  the  next  few  weeks  were  spent  in  anxious  waiting 
for  further  news.  Meanwhile  he  had  written  to 
different  correspondents  to  whom  he  had  given  her 
letters.  She  had  called  on  two  of  them,  but  the 
others  had  neither  seen  nor  heard  of  her. 

86 


THE  MAN  HUNT 

During  this  period  of  waiting  and  anxiety  Tom  was 
much  puzzled  by  his  mother's  demeanor.  At  times 
she  seemed  deeply  moved  by  the  situation  and  keenly 
interested  in  the  search;  then  all  at  once  she  would 
become  peevish  and  spiteful.  Spasms  of  regret  and 
self-reproach,  which  appeared  unfeigned,  would  be  fol 
lowed  by  fault-finding  and  sullenness.  "To  think  that 
he  could  be  so  inconsiderate  as  to  do  such  a  thing  and 
leave  me  to  suffer  the  odious  consequences!"  she  had 
remarked.  "That  newspaper  scandal — it  will  kill  me !" 
she  exclaimed.  "His  people  all  hate  me  now,  and  not 
one  of  our  friends  has  sent  me  so  much  as  a  sympathetic 
word.  They  treat  me  as  if  I  were  guilty  of  some  crime." 

Tom  had  about  concluded  that  she  had  undergone 
no  great  change  of  heart,  and  that  her  pride  alone 
had  been  touched;  but  he  noticed  that  since  the 
appearance  of  the  defamatory  article  she  showed  a 
greatly  increased  interest  in  finding  his  father.  In 
referring  to  Miss  Bellinger,  she  taunted  him  repeatedly 
for  being  "taken  in,"  and  trusting  "so  confidently  in 
a  pretty  girl's  honesty."  "The  idea,"  she  said  testily, 
"of  sending  an  attractive  girl  out  into  that  country, 
with  plenty  of  expense  money,  and  expecting  ever  to 
see  either  the  girl  or  your  money  again!  She's  prob 
ably  married  by  this  time." 

These  jeers  and  charges  against  the  girl's  honesty 
were  rendered  the  more  intolerable  because  he  now 
feared  they  might  be  well  founded. 

87 


CHAPTER  EIGHT 

"Yes,  mother,  for  the  sake  of  humoring  your  whim 
sical  ideas,  let  us  hope  she  is  married,  and  happily  so. 
I  hope  she  gets  a  man  that's  as  kind  to  her  as  father 
was  to  you.  If  father  really  committed  suicide  over 
you  he  was  a  weaker  man  than  I  think  he  was.  I 
believe  he  was  too  strong-minded  and  proud  to  give 
you  that  satisfaction." 

The  loss  of  the  money  did  not  bother  Tom,  for  he 
would  have  risked  twice  as  much  upon  the  remotest 
prospect  of  finding  his  father;  but  the  loss  of  the  girl 
did  trouble  him.  Had  she  not  written  about  one 
proposal,  and  another  one  threatened?  This  was 
most  disconcerting;  and  yet  he  didn't  know  just  why 
it  should  be.  But  he  began  to  regret  having  sent  her 
He  would  have  gone  to  look  for  her  himself,  but  fear 
ing  the  chagrin  that  would  result  from  the  possible 
discovery  that  she  was  engaged  or  married  to  some 
one  else,  he  decided  to  send  someone  instead. 

The  more  he  thought  the  matter  over  the  more 
restless  he  became,  —  until  finally  he  decided  to  lay 
the  problem  before  his  friend  Sid  —  for  whom  he  had 
secured  a  position  in  the  bank.  So  one  afternoon  he 
sent  for  him  to  come  into  his  office. 

"Sid,  do  you  remember  that  Miss  Bellinger  that  I 
sent  out  West?" 

"Yes,  I  saw  her  in  here  once  or  twice,  but  I  paid 
no  particular  attention  to  her." 

"Would  you  know  her  if  you  saw  her  on  the  street?" 

88 


THE   MAN   HUNT 

"Yes,  I  think  so.  Why?  Is  she  back  in  the 
city?" 

"No  —  or  that  is,  I  haven't  heard  a  word  from  her 
for  weeks,  and  I'm  afraid  something  has  happened  to 
her  out  in  that  wild  western  country.  Or  maybe  she's 
found  father  and  he  persuaded  her  not  to  let  us  know 
about  it." 

Sid  ran  his  fingers  through  his  hair,  as  was  his 
wont  when  confronted  with  some  intricate  problem, 
and  was  silent  for  some  moments. 

"Did  she  draw  the  full  amount  of  the  credit  you 
gave  her  on  the  Denver  bank?"  he  inquired  at  length. 

"Yes,  —  —  she  did,  and  the  last  sum  she  drew  was 
over  three  hundred  dollars,  all  at  one  time  —  and 
only  a  short  time  ago,  too!"  said  Tom  excitedly,  as  a 
new  idea  occurred  to  him.  "And  I'll  bet  she's  found 
him  and  given  him  that  money,"  he  continued,  - 
forestating  Sid's  own  conclusion.  "I  wish  I'd  made  it 
ten  thousand  instead  of  five  hundred!"  he  exclaimed 
as  he  jumped  up  and  stalked  about  the  room,  with 
his  hands  rammed  deep  into  his  trousers  pockets. 

"You  assume  the  girl  to  be  honest,  do  you,  Tom?" 
"Not  the  slightest  doubt  in  the  world  about  that; 
she  comes  from  a  fine  family,  —  friends  of  my  father. 
"Sid,  you'd  know  that  girl  if  you  came  across  her, 
and  you're  just  the  fellow  to  go  out  there.     Father 
doesn't  know  you,  neither  does  she.     You  can  prob 
ably  get  some  trace  of  her  at  Denver,  at  the  bank 

89 


CHAPTER  EIGHT 

where  she  drew  the  money,  or  from  some  of  the 
people  she  had  letters  to." 

Sid  pondered  for  some  time  before  answering. 

"I'm  no  detective,  Tom,  but  if  you  think  I  can  do 
anything  for  you,  I'll  go,  and  do  all  I  can." 

"Good!"  said  Tom;  "prepare  to  leave  here  by 
tomorrow  night.  And  say,  Sid,  come  to  think  of  it, 
she  drew  that  last  money  through  the  Sheldon  Bank 
ing  Company  at  Colorado  Springs.  And  I'll  bet  that's 
just  where  you'll  find  her  too  J" 


CHAPTER  IX 
TOM  MAKES  A  DISCOVERY 

One  day  shortly  after  Sid's  departure,  while  glanc 
ing  over  a  large  accumulation  of  papers  found  in 
his  father's  private  box,  Tom  came  across  an  old 
letter  written  from  Colorado  Springs,  which  ran  as 
follows : — 

My  dear  Farnsworth : 

After  three  months  of  prospecting  I  have  struck  the  great 
est  mining  prospect  in  the  West,  but  it  will  take  fifty  thous 
and  dollars  ready  cash  to  close  it.  This  is  double  the  amount 
you  agreed  to  stake  me  for,  but  there  will  be  a  million  profit 
in  it.  Wire  me  at  once  if  you  can  let  me  have  the  amount 
right  away.  My  option  only  runs  ten  days.  I  will  write  full 
particulars  later.  In  haste,  Yours, 

WILLIAM  J.   BENSON. 

"For  heaven's  sake!"  exclaimed  Tom;  "that's  my 
mother's  maiden  name!"  He  also  came  upon  a 
promissory  note,  dated  a  few  days  later,  bearing  the 
same  signature,  for  fifty  thousand  dollars. 

"Looks  like  that  note  was  never  paid  —  "  he  mused, 
as  he  turned  it  over  and  over  in  his  fingers  and  looked 
in  vain  for  some  endorsement  or  cancellation  stamp. 
He  rang  for  the  head  bookkeeper,  who  promptly 
appeared. 

"Billings,  how  long  have  you  kept  my  father's 
private  accounts?" 

"For  more  than  twenty  years,  sir." 

91 


CHAPTER  NINE 

"Did  you  ever  see  this  note?"  he  asked  as  he  handed 
him  the  paper. 

"No,  I  never  saw  it;"  he  said,  after  examining  it 
critically ;  "but  I  notice  it  is  outlawed  —  long  ago." 

"Do  you  know  anything  about  it?" 

"As  I  remember,  it  is  for  money  loaned  to  your 
mother's  father." 

"And  was  it  ever  paid?" 

"I  don't  think  so." 

"As  the  custodian  of  my  father's  private  accounts, 
wouldn't  you  have  known  if  it  had  been  paid?" 

"Yes,  undoubtedly.  I  remember  getting  a  draft  on 
San  Francisco  for  that  sum,  payable  to  Mr.  Benson, 
and  if  the  note  had  been  paid  it  would  have  been 
returned  or  cancelled.  I  remember  your  father 
would  never  have  anything  more  to  do  with  Mr. 
Benson  soon  after  sending  him  that  money." 

"The  reason  is  obvious,"  said  Tom.  "He  never 
paid  that  money  back,  and  my  father  was  too  proud 
to  sue  him." 

Tom  reached  over  and  picked  up  a  package  of 
papers  and  receipts  he  had  found  locked  in  a  tin  box 
by  themselves. 

"Tell  me,  Billings,  —  who  was  Stephen  Barton, 
trustee?" 

"He  was  the  trustee  of  your  Grandfather  Farns- 
worth's  estate." 

"I  find  here  a  lot  of  receipts  from  Miss  Hilton's 

92 


TOM   MAKES  A   DISCOVERY 

school  —  did  any  of  my  father's  relatives  attend  that 
school?" 

"No,  but  your  father  was  interested  in  a  young 
lady  who  went  there,  and  he  paid  her  bills." 

"Then  that  was  probably  a  personal  matter  into 
which  I  have  no  right  to  inquire." 

"But  under  the  circumstances  you  really  ought  to 
know  about  it,"  persisted  Billings,  hesitatingly. 

"If  it  was  a  private  affair  of  my  father's,  let  the 
secret  rest  with  you." 

"But  it  concerns  your  mother,  and  you  ought  to 
know  of  it,"  he  reiterated.  "As  things  have  turned 
out,  I  don't  believe  your  father  would  hold  me  to 
the  pledge  of  secrecy,  and  you  may  as  well  hear  the 
truth." 

Though  burning  up  with  curiosity,  Tom  was  un 
certain  whether  or  not  he  ought  to  inquire  into  the 
privacy  of  his  father's  affairs.  Finally  he  said,  "You 
may  tell  me  if  you  will,  provided  you  think  it  is  a 
matter  that  my  father  himself  would  confide  in  me 
if  he  were  living." 

"Very  well,  and  the  Lord  forgive  me  if  I  do  wrong. 
That  money  was  paid  for  your  mother's  schooling," 
he  said  bluntly. 

"My  mother's  schooling!"  exclaimed  Tom.  "Why, 
what  do  you  mean?" 

"I  was  Mr.  Barton's  bookkeeper  when  your  father 
was  in  college,"  he  began.  He  then  gave  Tom  a 

93 


CHAPTER  NINE 

brief  account  of  his  father's  love  romance,  which 
culminated  in  his  marriage  to  the  girl  he  had  be 
friended.  In  conclusion  he  added  —  "And  I  don't 
believe  she  ever  knew  a  thing  about  it,  not  even  to 
this  day.  Old  man  Benson  thought  because  your 
father  married  his  daughter,  that  squared  the  debt 
off;  and  he  wrote  your  father  an  insulting  letter 
when  he  was  asked  to  pay  the  note.  The  reason 
why  your  father  never  sued  him  for  the  money  was 
that  he  didn't  want  your  mother  to  know  this  secret, 
and  that  he  helped  her  father  out  of  a  bad  place  and 
gave  him  a  start  in  life.  That's  the  kind  of  a  man 
your  father  always  was ;  and  I  think  it's  an  outrage  - 
the  way  he  got  treated." 

With  this  he  wiped  his  eyes,  and  as  he  was  leaving 
the  room  he  remarked,  "There's  something  else  about 
your  grandfather  that  you  probably  don't  know;  but 
I  can't  tell  you.  You'll  know  it  soon  enough." 

"Well,  what  d'you  think  of  that?"  said  Tom  to 
himself  when  Billings  had  gone  —  "Father  loaned 
that  old  pauper  money  to  make  a  fortune  with,  and 
he  never  paid  back  a  cent  of  it!  Then  after  mother 
inherited  it  all,  father  couldn't  even  borrow  back  his 
own  money  to  save  himself  from  ruin." 

Tom  now  remembered  that  the  name  of  his  mother's 
father  had  never  to  his  knowledge  been  the  subject  of 
remark  between  his  parents,  —  which  seemed  strange, 
if  his  mother  knew  nothing  about  these  matters. 

94 


TOM   MAKES   A   DISCOVERY 

But  there  was  something  else  —  even  worse  —  that 
Billings  would  not  disclose.  "It  must  be  pretty  bad," 
he  mused,  "if  he  refuses  to  tell  it."  He  went  home 
that  afternoon,  determined  to  question  his  mother, 
and  see  if  he  could  get  any  more  light  on  the  subject. 

"Mother,"  he  said,  as  they  sat  talking  in  the  eve 
ning,  "it  seems  strange  I  never  heard  either  you  or 
father  say  anything  about  Grandfather  Benson." 
She  looked  at  him  wonderingly,  but  made  no  reply. 

"Say,  mother,  did  Grandfather  Benson  ever  have 
any  business  troubles  with  father?" 

"Why  no,  of  course  not,  Tom;  why  do  you  ask 
such  a  question?" 

"I've  just  been  wondering  why  they  were  not 
friendly  —  that's  all." 

"Do  you  know  that  they  were  not  friendly?"  she 
asked. 

"Yes,  mother,  of  course  I  know  it;  but  why  should 
you  deny  the  fact,  and  try  to  keep  it  a  secret  from 
me?" 

"Well,  since  you  know  about  it,  the  truth  of  the 
matter  is,  about  six  months  after  you  were  born, 
just  after  your  father  went  into  business,  he  had 
some  dispute  with  your  grandfather  over  money 
matters.  I  understood  that  your  grandfather  put 
some  money  in  the  new  firm,  and  —  " 

"And  he  never  got  it  back?  —  is  that  it?"  inter 
rupted  Tom. 

95 


CHAPTER  NINE 

"Yes ;   how  did  you  know  that?"  she  asked  sharply. 

"I  was  only  guessing.  And  when  your  father  died 
he  left  you  his  entire  fortune,  didn't  he?" 

"Yes,  that  is  - —  yes,  he  did." 

"And  did  he  tell  you  not  to  give  any  of  it  to 
father?" 

"Yes  —  or  —  why,  Tom,  how  do  you  know  all 
these  things?  You  must  be  a  mind-reader.  Not  a 
soul,  either  living  or  dead,  ever  knew  what  was  in 
that  letter,  except  your  grandfather  and  myself.  I 
burned  it  as  soon  as  I  read  it.  Has  Simpson  been 
talking  to  you?" 

"No,  I'm  not  in  the  habit  of  discussing  family 
matters  with  the  house  servants,  and  I  never  saw  or 
heard  of  the  letter  you  speak  of,  and  know  nothing 
about  it." 

She  gave  a  sigh  of  relief,  then  continued, — 

"Your  Grandfather  Benson  was  a  man  of  generous 
impulses,  and  the  most  exemplary  habits.  People 
often  imposed  upon  his  generosity  and  kindhearted- 
ness.  He  was  a  man  of  close  counsel,  and  rarely  — " 

"Yes,  my  grandfather,  with  his  generous  impulses 
indeed !  But  please  refer  to  him  only  as  your  father. 
I'm  ashamed  to  own  relationship  with  the  old  hypo 
crite,  and  if  I  knew  where  he's  buried  I'd  go  and 
stamp  on  his  grave !" 

"Tom!  Tom!"  she  gasped,  "have  you  gone  stark 
mad?" 

96 


TOM  MAKES  A   DISCOVERY 

"Yes,  I  have  —  and,  with  good  reason,  too !  My 
father  never  imposed  upon  anybody's  generosity. 
He  never  owed  your  father  a  cent  in  all  his  life;  and 
here's  the  evidence,"  he  said  as  he  flung  the  letter 
and  promissory  note  into  her  lap  —  "He  even  gave 
your  father  money  to  buy  a  railroad  ticket  to  Colo 
rado;  he  loaned  him  fifty  thousand  dollars  to  buy 
that  mine  in  which  he  made  his  fortune.  Through 
Stephen  Barton,  trustee,  he  paid  every  dollar  of  the 
cost  of  your  education  in  a  fashionable  boarding 
school,  and  all  your  prodigious  expenses  from  the  time 
you  were  fourteen  years  old,  aggregating  over  twenty 
thousand  dollars ;  and  then  allowed  that  old  reprobate 
to  have  all  the  credit  for  it.  Your  generous  father 
never  dared  show  his  face  around  here  in  his  latter 
days,  and  that's  the  only  decent  thing  to  his  credit." 

She  glanced  at  the  note,  and  stung  by  his  last  words 
she  sprang  to  her  feet,  with  a  revengeful  glare  in  her 
snapping  black  eyes. 

"It's  all  a  lie  —  it's  a  forgery!  I  will  not  listen  to 
your  ravings  —  you're  mad  with  fury,"  she  said 
angrily. 

"Yes  you  will  listen,  mother.  You  needn't  look  that 
way  at  me.  Some  of  these  facts  you  already  knew, 
and  have  been  hiding  them;  and  what  you  didn't 
know  it's  time  you  were  learning.  Not  a  dollar  of 
that  fifty  thousand  was  ever  paid  back,  and  it  was  out 
of  consideration  for  your  feelings  that  father  never 

97 


CHAPTER  NINE 

sued  him  —  because  he  wished  to  spare  you  and 
shield  your  father  from  disgrace  in  your  eyes.  Instead 
of  paying  the  money  back,  the  old  cheat  claimed  that 
the  debt  was  paid  by  giving  you  to  father.  In  other 
words,  he  employed  you  as  a  means  of  getting  the 
money,  and  then  figured  that  he  had  sold  you  for 
fifty  thousand  dollarsl" 

She  fell  back  helplessly  into  her  chair. 

"Not  content  with  that,  he  lied  to  you  —  lied  to 
you!  in  telling  you  he  put  money  into  the  business. 

"You  would  have  been  ostracized  from  society  long 
ago  if  your  fashionable  friends  had  known  the  facts 
about  your  father,  with  his  generosity  and  kindhearted- 
ness,  and  his  exemplary  habitsl 

"If  you  had  told  me  the  truth,  as  far  as  you  knew 
the  facts,  I  wouldn't  have  told  you  this ;  but  you  were 
not  honest  with  me;  and  you  never  treated  father 
right,  either.  If  you  had  acted  half  decently  to  him 
he  would  have  had  some  incentive  to  live.  No  wonder 
he  left  home !  The  thing  that  surprises  me  is  that  he 
didn't  leave  you  or  go  and  hang  himself  long  ago." 

"0  God!  spare  me!"  she  moaned  as  she  covered  her 
face  with  her  hands. 

One  morning  a  few  days  later  when  Tom  reached 
the  office  he  found  Sid  there. 

"What,  back  so  soon?"  he  cried  in  astonishment. 
"Did  you  find  Miss  Bellinger?" 

98 


TOM   MAKES   A  DISCOVERY 

"Yes,  I  found  her,  all  right,"  he  replied  sullenly. 
"Say,  Tom,  that  girl  is  stark  raving  mad  —  crazy  — 
hopelessly  insane." 

"What  did  you  do  with  her?  Did  you  bring  her 
back?"  he  asked  excitedly. 

"What  did  I  do  with  her?  I  couldn't  do  anything 
but  get  away  from  her  as  quickly  as  possible,  and  I 
was  lucky  to  do  that,"  he  said,  as  he  pulled  up  his 
sleeve  and  exposed  some  bruises  on  his  arm. 

"Look  what  she  did  to  me.  I  came  across  her  at 
Colorado  Springs,  just  as  she  was  coming  out  of  the 
Sheldon  Bank,  and  followed  her  a  couple  of  blocks. 
She  seemed  in  much  of  a  hurry,  and  as  she  was  cross 
ing  the  street  I  called  to  her.  When  I  first  saw  her 
she  looked  as  sane  as  anyone;  but  when  she  turned 
and  looked  at  me  there  was  a  wild  stare  in  her  eyes, 
and  her  features  seemed  tensely  drawn.  Then  all  at 
once  she  rushed  up  and  grabbed  me  by  the  arm  and 
pinched  me  until  I  almost  howled.  She  pulled  me 
along  down  to  the  station  —  said  she  was  going  to  take 
me  to  Denver.  I  jumped  aboard  a  train  and  came 
home." 

"Great  Heavens!"  cried  Tom,  "Why  did  you  come 
away  and  leave  her  there  among  strangers?  Why 
didn't  you  follow  her  to  her  lodging  place,  and  then 
telegraph  me?" 

"You  wouldn't  have  thought  of  following  her  any 
where  if  you  had  been  there  and  she  had  hauled  you 

99 


CHAPTER  NINE 

through  the  streets,  screeching  and  looking  up  at  the 
housetops,  with  a  crowd  of  curious  people  in  close 
pursuit.  She  thinks  she's  Sherlock  Holmes,  and  she 
was  determined  to  marry  me." 

"She  must  be  crazy,  all  right,"  said  Tom,  looking 
abstractedly  out  at  the  window.  "Oh,  excuse  me, 
Sid  —  I  didn't  mean  it  that  way,  you  know,  of  course. 
— But,  really,  you  shouldn't  have  left  her  —  crazy, 
or  not  crazy." 

"After  getting  on  the  train,"  continued  Sid,  "I 
thought  of  going  back  and  reporting  the  matter  to 
the  police,  but  finally  concluded  that  they  would  find 
her  and  take  care  of  her,  so  I  telegraphed  the  hotel 
to  forward  my  baggage,  as  there  appeared  to  be 
nothing  I  could  do." 

When  Tom  told  his  mother  of  Sid's  report  she  said, 
"It's  good  enough  for  her;  she's  probably  gone  crazy 
over  your  father,  and  her  dementia  broke  out  in  a 
violent  form  when  she  failed  to  find  him.  It  was  the 
height  of  folly  in  the  first  place  to  send  her  to  look 
for  him." 

"Then  why  don't  you  suggest  something?"  he 
asked.  "You'd  sit  here  the  rest  of  your  life  and 
do  nothing,  rather  than  spend  a  dollar  on  looking  for 
him!" 

"If  he's  living  he  could  easily  write  us  a  line,  and  if 
he's  not  living,  what's  the  use  searching  for  him?" 
she  retorted. 

100 


TOM  MAKES  A   DISCOVERY 

Reverting  again  to  Miss  Bellinger,  regarding  whom 
she  still  seemed  somewhat  concerned,  — 

"That  girl  detective  of  yours  wasn't  so  crazy  but 
what  she  could  draw  the  full  amount  of  your  letter  of 
credit." 

"That's  so,  too,"  thought  Tom.  "I  guess  I'll  just 
take  a  run  out  there  myself.  Maybe  that  girl  has 
found  father,  and  she  wasn't  as  luny  as  she  appeared 
to  be.  She  may  have  had  some  object  in  taking  Sid  to 
the  station  and  getting  him  out  of  town." 


101 


CHAPTER  X 
THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  SUICIDE 

When  Mr.  Farnsworth  left  his  home  on  that  drizzly 
night  in  March  he  had  made  up  his  mind  never  to 
return.  While  he  did  not  feel  that  his  wife  was  re 
sponsible  for  his  misfortune,  yet  he  knew  she  could 
easily  have  prevented  it  without  any  personal  loss  or 
inconvenience.  Her  coldness  and  lack  of  concern  in 
his  business  success  were  barely  endurable,  but  the 
thought  of  being  compelled  to  admit  his  failure  and 
to  depend  upon  her  for  money  with  which  to  meet 
household  and  personal  expenses  was  intolerable.  He 
could  not  even  suffer  the  thought  of  leaving  their  son 
dependent  upon  her.  It  seemed  best  that  he  pass 
completely  out  of  her  life. 

"She  is  still  young,"  he  reasoned,  "and  with  me 
out  of  the  way  she  may  eventually  find  some  other 
man  more  adapted  to  her  peculiar  temperament." 

She  had  often  said  that  she  would  like  to  have  a 
home  in  her  own  name,  and  in  presenting  her  with  a 
costly  house  he  hoped  that  she  would  take  a  renewed 
interest  in  domestic  affairs.  In  this  he  was  keenly 
disappointed,  for  she  accepted  it  merely  as  her  right 
ful  perquisite. 

For  the  sake  of  his  son,  and  of  family  pride,  he  un 
complainingly  endured  the  galling  yoke  of  domestic 

102 


THE  TRAIL   OF  THE  SUICIDE 

infelicity  while  he  was  prosperous;  but  these  con 
siderations  vanished  in  the  thought  of  becoming  a  de 
pendent  in  the  reproachful  eyes  of  his  proud  wife,  who 
was  doubtless  already  congratulating  herself  on  her  far 
sightedness  in  withdrawing  the  deposit  from  his  bank. 

His  first  impulse  was  to  leave  home  with  no  word  as 
to  his  destination;  but  this  would  tend  to  complicate 
matters  in  the  settlement  of  his  affairs,  so  after  due 
consideration  the  most  feasible  plan  seemed  to  be  that 
of  creating  the  impression  that  he  had  destroyed  him 
self.  It  was  with  great  reluctance  that  he  finally 
settled  upon  this  artifice,  for  deception  was  always 
repugnant  to  his  nature.  He  would  not  belie  himself 
by  making  a  direct  statement  that  he  contemplated 
suicide,  but  he  would  leave  this  to  be  inferred. 

Though  the  stratagem  was  neither  original  nor 
especially  clever,  it  was  the  first  and  only  solution 
that  occurred  to  his  confused  brain  during  the  last 
interview  with  his  wife,  and  he  acted  upon  it.  The 
public  might  easily  suspect  that  his  failure  would  incite 
suicidal  thoughts,  and  the  destruction  of  his  insurance 
policies  would  preclude  any  censorious  remarks  that 
might  be  made  against  him  if  his  wife  attempted  to 
enforce  their  payment.  Furthermore,  the  insurance 
companies  would  thereby  be  eliminated  as  a  factor  in 
prosecuting  any  search  for  him. 

The  thought  of  slinking  away  in  the  face  of  his 
business  reverses  was  abhorrent  to  him,  for  it  ap- 

103 


CHAPTER  TEN 

peared  both  cowardly  and  dishonest.  Had  his  home 
life  been  harmonious  he  would  willingly  have  started 
at  the  bottom,  with  complete  confidence  in  his  ability 
to  regain  his  prestige  and  his  fortune;  but  the  future 
held  forth  no  promise  of  domestic  happiness,  and  the 
necessary  incentive  was  lacking.  Since  all  men  have 
some  weakness,  either  visible  or  invisible  to  the  public, 
his  love  of  home  life  was  his  most  vulnerable  point, 
and  the  wound  inflicted  upon  it  was  too  deep  to  be 
healed. 

After  leaving  his  small  bag,  with  the  note  to  his 
wife,  on  the  pier  he  took  the  first  early  morning  train 
for  the  West.  He  looked  cautiously  through  the  cars 
to  see  if  perchance  there  might  be  a  familiar  face,  and 
was  relieved  to  find  none.  His  mind  was  tired  and 
distracted,  and  as  he  moved  uneasily  about  from  one 
part  of  the  train  to  another  he  became  more  and  more 
imbued  with  the  feeling  that  he  was  fleeing  from  some 
reprehensible  act. 

At  every  station  he  got  off  and  after  scrutinizing 
closely  every  one  who  got  on  he  walked  impatiently 
about  the  platform  until  the  train  started.  At  one 
small  station  he  went  partly  around  to  the  opposite 
side  of  the  depot  and  stood  for  a  few  moments  lost  in 
thought.  Looking  in  at  the  window  he  saw  the  reflec 
tion  of  his  train  moving  out,  and  he  turned  about  just 
in  time  to  run  and  catch  the  last  coach  as  it  was  passing 
the  station. 

104 


THE   TRAIL   OF  THE   SUICIDE 

At  Albany  he  bought  a  copy  of  an  extra  edition  of 
the  morning  paper  and  calmly  read  the  account  of  his 
own  suicide.  He  smiled  bitterly  when  he  came  upon 
the  statement  that  his  wife  was  a  rich  heiress,  and  that 
her  fortune  had  probably  been  lost  in  the  downfall  of 
his  bank.  After  finishing  the  account  he  felt  an  added 
sense  of  shame  and  regret,  but  it  was  too  late  to  turn 
back. 

At  Buffalo  he  got  an  evening  paper  and  glancing 
quickly  at  the  financial  news  his  heart  sickened  as  he 
read  the  headlines,  - 

STOCKS    RECOVER    QUICKLY  —  BEARS   SCRAM 
BLE    FOR    COVER    IN    WILD    DISORDER. 

"If  I  could  have  held  on  just  another  day!"  he 
moaned. 

Arriving  at  Chicago  he  spent  the  day  on  the  streets, 
and  took  the  night  train  for  Denver ;  and  from  there 
he  went  to  Colorado  Springs.  Going  into  a  bank  to 
get  a  bill  changed,  he  inquired  of  the  paying  teller 
where  he  could  find  a  quiet  boarding  place.  After 
thinking  a  moment  the  man  referred  him  to  a  small 
boarding  house  out  in  the  suburbs  which  he  said  was 
conducted  by  a  widow.  Upon  calling  there  he  asked 
if  he  could  get  a  room  by  the  week.  He  had  not 
shaved  since  leaving  home,  having  decided  to  grow  a 
full  beard  and  moustache  to  avoid  identification. 
After  scrutinizing  him  closely,  and  observing  his 

105 


CHAPTER  TEN 

neglected  appearance,  the  landlady  asked  his  name  and 
where  he  was  from. 

"My  name  is  Horace  Alexander,  and  I  am  from 
Denver.  I  wish  to  engage  a  room  for  a  week,  and 
perhaps  longer,"  he  said. 

His  voice  and  cultivated  manner  reassured  her,  and 
she  showed  him  to  a  room,  which  she  said  he  could 
have  for  twelve  dollars  a  week  with  meals,  or  five 
dollars  without. 

"Would  you  prefer  your  pay  in  advance?"  he  in 
quired,  having  noticed  the  suspicion  with  which  she 
regarded  him  at  first. 

"Oh,  no,  sir,  I  can  see  that  you're  a  gentleman.  I'll 
have  the  water  pitcher  filled,  and  some  clean  towels  in 
a  minute,"  she  said  as  she  left  the  room. 

Though  rather  sparsely  furnished,  the  room  was 
cosy,  and  after  surveying  it  he  set  to  work  unpacking 
his  traveling  bag,  and  prepared  to  make  himself  at 
home  in  his  new  quarters. 

Taking  account  of  his  finances  he  found  that  he  had 
a  trifle  over  one  hundred  dollars,  which  he  figured 
would  pay  his  expenses  until  he  could  collect  his 
thoughts  and  decide  upon  some  course  of  action. 

Being  tired  out  after  his  long  journey  and  sleepless 
nights  on  the  train  he  retired  to  his  bed  early  and  en 
joyed  the  best  night's  sleep  he  had  had  in  weeks.  He 
woke  next  morning  much  refreshed,  and  though  still 
keenly  regretful  of  his  business  misfortunes  he  deter- 

106 


THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  SUICIDE 

mined  to  start  anew  and  reconstruct  his  lost  fortune 
and  prestige  under  his  new  name.  The  vexatious 
problem  of  domestic  infelicity  was  no  longer  a  question 
of  immediate  concern  with  him ;  it  was  for  the  moment 
completely  overshadowed  by  the  question  of  subsis 
tence  that  confronted  him.  The  state  of  apprehen 
sion  under  which  he  had  suffered  weeks  of  mental 
torture  was  far  more  wearing  than  were  his  present 
reduced  circumstances;  and  now  that  the  crisis  had 
passed  he  felt  much  relieved.  It  would  be  a  matter  of 
adapting  himself  to  the  changed  conditions,  he 
thought,  as  he  lay  in  bed  meditating  over  the  possi 
bilities  of  the  future.  He  resolved  to  verify  the  say 
ing,  that  "Life  is  filled  with  golden  opportunities." 
Here  was  a  chance  for  an  achievement,  in  starting 
with  nothing  and  acquiring  the  position  of  honor 
and  affluence  he  had  formerly  held  by  right  of 
inheritance. 

After  breakfast  he  sauntered  down  town  and  wan 
dered  aimlessly  about.  As  he  saw  the  bustle  in  the 
streets  the  world  seemed  to  be  moving  on  all  about 
him,  and  made  him  the  more  anxious  to  attach  him 
self  to  some  vocation.  As  he  was  passing  the  bank 
where  he  had  changed  the  bill  the  day  before,  the 
thought  struck  him  that  he  would  go  in  and  have  a 
talk  with  the  president.  He  turned  and  started  up 
the  steps,  but  as  he  put  his  hand  on  the  door  he  thought, 
"But  how  shall  I  introduce  myself?"  realizing  for  the 

107 


CHAPTER  TEN 

first  time  the  handicap  of  his  new  name.  He  turned 
back  and  continued  along  the  street. 

In  the  afternoon  he  went  to  the  executive  offices  of 
The  Sheldon  Mining  Company,  an  enterprise  he  had 
financed  in  New  York,  and  in  which  he  was  at  the  time 
of  his  failure  a  director  and  a  large  stockholder.  The 
only  one  there  who  knew  him  personally  was  Mr. 
Sheldon,  the  president,  and  he  had  died  some  weeks 
before;  so  he  felt  there  was  no  danger  of  disclosing 
his  identity.  As  he  entered  the  spacious  offices  he 
was  met  by  the  office  boy  who  requested  his  name. 

"Tell  the  official  in  charge  that  Mr.  Horace  Alex 
ander  would  like  to  see  him." 

The  boy  bowed  respectfully  and  disappeared.  Re 
turning  a  few  moments  later  he  said,  "The  vice- 
president  is  engaged,  and  Mr.  Dillworth  says  he  doesn't 
know  you.  He  asks  if  you  will  tell  the  nature  of  your 
business." 

"Tell  him  I  am  an  old-time  friend  of  Mr.  Sheldon," 
he  said  sternly,  with  some  impatience,  and  the  boy 
turned  instantly  to  carry  the  message.  In  a  moment 
the  gentleman  appeared. 

"I  am  Mr.  Dillworth.  I'm  glad  to  meet  you,  Mr. 
Alexander,"  he  said  deferentially.  A  few  moments 
later  they  were  seated  in  Mr.  Dill  worth's  private  office, 
discussing  various  phases  of  the  mining  industry.  The 
man  offered  him  a  cigar  and  treated  him  with  the 
respect  and  cordiality  that  was  naturally  befitting  to  a 

108 


THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  SUICIDE 

friend  of  the  former  honored  president  of  the  concern. 
Having  introduced  himself  as  Mr.  Sheldon's  friend 
this  man  would  of  course  be  likely  to  suppose  he  was 
merely  making  a  friendly  call,  and  he  was  much 
puzzled  to  know  how  he  was  to  approach  the  purpose 
of  his  visit.  At  length  he  inquired,  — 

"Is  there  any  vacancy  in  your  office,  Mr.  Dillworth?" 

The  man  looked  up  in  surprise.  "Vacancy?  No, 
not  that  I  know  of.  You  are  not  looking  for  a 
position!" 

"The  truth  is,  that  is  precisely  what  I  am  looking 
for." 

"I  thought  you  were  a  friend  of  Mr.  Sheldon's." 

"It  is  true;  I  was.  Up  to  the  time  of  his  death  I 
was  on  intimate  terms  of  friendship  with  him.  But 
Fortune  has  suddenly  turned  her  back  on  me,  and  I 
have  been  reduced  from  a  rich  man  to  the  necessity  of 
seeking  a  position  in  order  to  earn  a  living." 

Seeing  that  the  man  looked  a  little  provoked,  Mr. 
Farnsworth  rose,  and  with  a  feeling  of  deep  humilia 
tion  he  turned  toward  the  door. 

"Wait  a  moment,"  said  the  man  as  he  pressed  a 
button  on  his  desk.  A  young  man,  with  a  pen  be 
hind  his  ear,  who  looked  as  if  he  might  be  the  book 
keeper,  soon  appeared. 

"John,  this  gentleman  is  looking  for  a  position. 
Have  you  any  vacancy  in  the  office?" 

"No,  sir,  nothing  that  he  could  do,"     glancing  at 

100 


CHAPTER  TEN 

Mr.  Farnsworth.  "Our  errand  boy  leaves  next  week, 
but  there  is  no  other  vacancy." 

Mr.  Farnsworth  thanked  them  and  left  the  office. 
With  drooping  courage  he  walked  slowly  to  his  board 
ing  place  and  locked  himself  in  his  room.  He  was 
now  convinced  that  having  no  capital  he  would  be 
obliged  to  accept  some  minor  position  to  begin  with. 
But  what  could  he  do?  Having  no  practical  knowl 
edge  of  bookkeeping,  that  vocation  was  out  of  the 
question,  and  he  began  to  wonder  what  he  should 
have  done  had  they  offered  him  some  position  in  the 
office.  "Why,  the  errand  boy's  position  is  manifestly 
the  only  one  I  could  fill !" 

During  the  days  that  followed,  while  looking  the 
field  over  for  some  occupation  and  talking  with  people 
about  various  enterprises  he  found  there  were  many 
opportunities  for  money-making,  especially  in  mining, 
but  they  all  required  investment  of  more  or  less 
capital. 

He  thought  of  applying  for  a  position  as  financial 
writer  on  some  newspaper,  or  of  trying  his  hand  at 
writing  short  financial  articles  for  magazines;  but 
being  unknown  under  his  new  name,  his  articles 
would  perhaps  not  be  accepted  by  the  publishers. 

He  was  now  cut  off  completely  from  the  world,  liv 
ing  under  an  assumed  name,  —  amid  strange  and 
uncongenial  surroundings,  and  without  money  — 
man's  best  friend  in  time  of  need.  Facing  these  new 

no 


THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  SUICIDE 

conditions,  he  felt  as  if  he  were  beginning  life  as  a  boy 
again,  minus  the  inherent  hopefulness  of  boyhood. 

In  leaving  behind  him  the  impression  that  he  was 
dead  he  exiled  himself  from  all  friends  and  relatives, 
and  his  name,  fortune,  and  identity  all  were  lost;  and 
even  his  indomitable  courage  was  threatened. 

He  knew  of  a  number  of  banking  institutions  at 
home,  any  one  of  which  would  probably  be  glad  to 
employ  him  at  a  good  salary,  with  perhaps  a  small 
working  interest  in  the  business  to  start  with.  Several 
had  in  the  past  offered  to  consolidate  with  his  firm  in 
order  to  avail  themselves  of  his  clientele  and  his  broad 
knowledge  of  the  banking  business.  There  were 
many  of  his  customers  who  in  ordinary  times  would 
perhaps  be  glad  to  furnish  capital  to  start  him  in  busi 
ness  again ;  but  he  had  now  cut  himself  off  from  these 
possibilities  as  effectually  as  if  he  had  really  carried 
out  the  purpose  implied  in  the  note  to  his  wife. 

"How  could  I  have  been  so  blind  as  to  commit  such 
a  senseless  blunder?"  he  asked  himself  again  and 
again.  "And  all  for  what?  A  woman !  an  ungrateful 
woman!  Ah,  how  completely  these  creatures  may 
accomplish  the  ruin  of  confiding  men!  In  business  a 
man  may  fail  and  rise  again,  and  succeed  in  spite  of 
all  obstacles;  but  let  him  make  a  mess  of  his  love 
affairs  and  he's  damned  for  the  rest  of  his  life.  But 
God  help  the  man  who  fails  in  both  at  the  same  time!" 

Though  he  had  always  preached  and  practiced  the 

111 


CHAPTER  TEN 

motto,  "Keep  up  your  courage,"  now  in  his  time  of 
sore  need  there  was  no  comforting  voice  to  echo  back 
these  words  to  him. 

Once  in  answer  to  an  advertisement  he  applied  for  a 
position  as  a  clerk  in  a  grocery  store,  but  having  no 
experience  he  was  refused,  as  he  had  been  everywhere 
else. 

"But  I  am  a  man  of  mature  judgment  and  common 
sense,  and  I  can  learn  readily,"  he  argued;  to  which 
the  proprietor  gruffly  replied,  - 

"Then  you  ought  to  be  running  a  store  of  your  own 
at  your  age." 

"Yes,  you  are  quite  right,"  he  agreed  as  he  turned 
and  with  a  downcast  look  left  the  store. 

With  a  dogged  determination  to  accept  any  position 
that  would  offer  him  a  foothold  he  went  from  there 
back  to  the  Sheldon  Mining  Company  to  apply  for  the 
position  of  errand  boy.  "The  lower  down  I  begin,  the 
greater  will  be  my  triumph  in  the  end,"  he  thought. 

But  the  place  had  already  been  filled.  The  book 
keeper  offered  to  take  his  name,  address,  and  refer 
ences,  and  put  his  application  on  file.  "References!" 
he  thought  —  "I  know  of  no  one  to  vouch  for  me." 
He  gave  his  name  and  address  —  though  for  what 
reason  he  scarcely  knew  —  then  walked  away. 

As  he  walked  dejectedly  along  he  felt  that  he  was 
indeed  the  most  impoverished  individual  in  all  the 
world.  Even  the  newsboys  and  bootblacks  on  the 

112 


THE  TRAIL   OF  THE  SUICIDE 

street  became  objects  of  his  envy;  for  they  seemed 
happy  and  contented  in  their  accustomed  poverty  and 
ignorance.  They  were  at  least  somebody  in  their  own 
caste  while  he  was  nobody,  from  nowhere,  and  in  his 
present  identity  he  had  no  past  to  refer  to,  and  no 
future  to  look  forward  to.  He  was  simply  Mr.  Alex 
ander,  born  a  few  weeks  ago,  and  he  began  to  feel  about 
as  vacant  and  helpless  as  a  child  of  that  age.  His 
individuality  was  gone  —  absolutely  lost!  In  his 
isolation  he  felt  as  if  he  were  a  man  without  a  country, 
a  relative,  friend  or  foe. 

"And  yet,"  he  soliloquized,  "people  wonder  why 
strong  men  resort  to  self-destruction.  That  so  few  do 
is  a  high  tribute  to  the  courage  and  inborn  hopefulness 
of  mankind!" 

Day  after  day  he  continued  to  watch  the  want 
columns  in  the  newspapers,  and  applied  for  various 
positions,  but  he  was  either  "too  old,"  or  "too  late,"  or 
lacked  the  necessary  recommendations,  —  generally 
all  three. 

He  would  sometimes  stand  and  watch  the  people  on 
the  streets  as  they  hurried  by,  occasionally  singling 
out  one  and  wondering  what  position  he  occupied. 
Then  as  the  form  would  vanish  his  eyes  would  rest 
upon  another  passer-by.  No  one  spoke  to  him,  no 
body  noticed  him  or  dreamed  of  his  lonely,  impover 
ished  condition,  any  more  than  if  he  had  been  a  lamp 
post.  Time  after  time  he  would  return  to  his  lonely 

113 


CHAPTER  TEN 

room,  tired  and  disheartened  over  his  ill  success.  It 
seemed  incredible,  he  thought,  that  a  human  being 
could  be  quite  so  neglected  and  forlorn. 

"How  easily  one  may  dissipate  the  fruits  of  an  in 
dustrious  life!"  he  meditated.  "After  gradually  as 
cending  for  years,  one  misstep  may  cause  a  man  to 
stumble  and  fall,  as  I  have  done,  to  the  lowest  depths." 

One  morning  as  he  was  going  out,  the  landlady 
handed  him  a  letter  addressed  to  "Mr.  Horace  Alex 
ander,"  —the  first  letter  he  had  received  since  leaving 
home.  He  opened  it  hastily  with  mingled  curiosity 
and  apprehension.  It  was  written  on  the  letter  paper 
of  the  Sheldon  Banking  Company,  signed  by  Wilbur  W. 
Sheldon,  president,  and  requested  him  to  call  at  the 
bank. 

"The  son  of  my  old  friend !  What  does  he  know  or 
want  of  Horace  Alexander?"  he  queried  as  he  started 
off,  with  the  first  ray  of  hope  that  had  dawned  upon 
his  horizon  in  many  days. 


114 


CHAPTER  XI 
THE  VEILED  WOMAN  IN  THE  SHADOWS 

Mr.  Farnsworth  went  directly  to  the  Sheldon  Bank 
ing  Company,  and  upon  being  ushered  into  the  presi 
dent's  office  he  was  met  by  a  tall  man,  perhaps  thirty- 
five,  of  light  complexion  and  clean-shaven  face. 

"I  hear  that  you  were  an  old  friend  of  my  father's," 
he  said  as  he  motioned  his  caller  to  a  chair. 

"Yes,  I  knew  your  father  more  or  less  intimately  some 
years  ago,  and  I  was  much  pained  to  learn  of  his  death." 

They  talked  for  some  time  over  banking  and  busi 
ness  affairs  in  general,  but  Mr.  Farnsworth  thought  he 
detected  some  skepticism  in  the  other's  demeanor.  At 
length  he  asked  if  there  were  any  recent  developments 
in  the  affairs  of  Farnsworth  &  Company,  of  New  York, 
partly  to  satisfy  his  own  curiosity,  but  also  for  the 
purpose  of  affording  an  opportunity  of  showing  that  he 
was  acquainted  with  people  and  incidents  with  which 
the  younger  Mr.  Sheldon  knew  his  father  had  been 
closely  connected. 

In  order  to  explain  the  occasion  of  his  inquiry  he 
started  to  say  that  he  had  been  a  heavy  loser  by  the 
failure,  but  as  he  hesitated  a  moment  he  was  inter 
rupted  by  the  reply  that  the  firm  was  now  perfectly 
solvent.  His  face  blanched  and  he  grasped  the  arms 
of  his  chair. 

115 


CHAPTER   ELEVEN 

"Pardon  me;"  he  said,  "I  am  subject  to  occasional 
attacks  of  vertigo.  There,  I  feel  better,"  as  he  settled 
back  in  the  chair.  "I  must  appear  to  be  very  poorly 
informed ;  but  the  truth  is,  I  have  been  so  completely 
out  of  the  world  in  the  past  few  weeks  that  I  have  lost 
the  run  of  events." 

"Yes,"  said  Mr.  Sheldon,  now  more  cordially, 
"Farnsworth  &  Company's  embarrassment  was  only 
temporary.  It's  too  bad  Mr.  Farnsworth  committed 
suicide  so  rashly,  but  it  seems  the  market  turned  too 
late  to  save  him." 

"I  believe  they  have  been  your  New  York  corre 
spondents  for  nearly  twenty  years;"  said  Mr.  Farns 
worth,  indicating  his  familiarity  with  their  relation 
ship. 

"Yes,  my  father  and  Mr.  Farnsworth  were  interested 
together  in  some  mines  that  were  financed  by  Farns 
worth  &  Company,  and  they  have  been  our  fiscal 
agents  for  a  great  many  years.  Did  you  know  Mr. 
Farnsworth?" 

"I  knew  his  family  very  well  indeed;  I  also  knew 
his  partner,  Mr.  Burleigh,  and  his  former  partner,  who 
died  a  few  years  ago." 

"Then  perhaps  you  have  heard  of  the  recent  news 
paper  scandal  about  his  wife  and  his  partner?" 

Mr.  Farnsworth  involuntarily  started  to  his  feet; 
then  suppressing  his  agitation  he  sat  down.  "Again 
I  must  plead  my  ignorance  of  what  has  taken  place 

116 


THE   VEILED   WOMAN   IN   THE   SHADOWS 

in  civilization   of  late.     What  is  the  nature  of  this 
scandal?" 

Mr.  Sheldon  pressed  a  button  and  a  clerk  appeared. 

"Bring  me  those  newspaper  clippings  in  the  Farns- 
worth  &  Company  files." 

In  a  few  moments  the  clerk  returned  with  them. 
Handing  them  to  Mr.  Farnsworth,  Mr.  Sheldon  re 
marked,  "Since  you  knew  the  parties  concerned,  per 
haps  you  will  be  interested  in  reading  them." 

The  first  one  was  headed,  SON  OFFERS  REWARD 
FOR  MISSING  BANKER;  arid  went  on  to  say  that  his 
son,  who  was  now  the  nominal  head  of  Farnsworth  & 
Company,  had  offered  a  large  reward  for  information 
that  would  lead  to  the  discovery  of  his  father's  body, 
either  living  or  dead. 

The  second  clipping  contained  the  account  of  the 
reported  scandalous  actions  of  Mrs.  Farnsworth  and 
Mr.  Burleigh. 

"It's  all  a  lie!"  he  exclaimed  when  he  had  finished 
reading  it.     "She  never  cared  deeply  for  anybody  - 
not  even  her  own  child.     Her  mind  and  soul  were 
totally  absorbed  in  her  'social  duties'  and  that  idiotic 
'Woman's  Rights  Club'!" 

Excusing  himself  he  hastily  left  the  office,  and  went 
directly  to  his  room,  quivering  with  excitement  and 
indignation. 

"I'll  go  back  and  disprove  that  infamous  attack;" 
he  thought.  Then  of  a  sudden  he  recalled  the  fact 

117 


CHAPTER   ELEVEN 

that  she  had  once  suggested  his  taking  Burleigh  into 
the  firm,  and  soon  thereafter  she  had  asked  him  for  a 
checking  account  at  his  bank.  That  much  was  cer 
tainly  true.  Moreover,  it  was  the  one  instance  in 
which  she  had  ever  shown  any  interest  whatever  in  his 
business. 

He  remembered  how  time  and  again  she  had  worn 
her  most  becoming  dinner  gowns  when  Burleigh  had 
dined  with  them,  and  now,  come  to  think  of  it,  she  had 
always  reserved  her  choicest  witticisms  for  these  occa 
sions.  At  first  she  was  loud  in  her  praises  of  Burleigh's 
sterling  business-like  qualities.  Then  of  late  he  had 
dined  with  them  less  frequently,  and  she  appeared  to 
avoid  him  as  much  as  possible  —  sometimes  pleading 
a  headache  and  ordering  dinner  served  in  her  room. 

Once  he  had  come  suddenly  upon  them  in  the 
library  and  found  them  conversing  earnestly  in  under 
tones.  Perhaps  it  was  he  who  had  counseled  her  in 
the  matter  of  investments !  He  now  remembered,  too, 
that  her  headaches  usually  got  better  shortly  after 
Burleigh's  departure.  Was  it  not  apparent  that  these 
headaches  were  shammed  for  a  purpose? 

"Yes,  it's  perfectly  clear;"  he  reasoned — "she 
avoided  him  when  I  was  about  for  fear  I  should  dis 
cover  her  infatuation  and  spoil  her  plot.  And  this 
explains  why  she  refused  to  lend  me  the  money,  and 
why  she  was  so  anxious  to  have  the  home  in  her 
name! 

118 


THE   VEILED   WOMAN   IN  THE  SHADOWS 

"And  now,  after  all  these  years  of  labor  and  loyal 
devotion  to  her,  she  strikes  me  down  as  she  would  a 
venomous  reptile,  and  turns  over  the  accumulation  of 
my  years  of  hard  work  to  the  one  I  befriended  and 
took  into  my  business  and  my  home!  Fool!  blind 
fool  that  I've  been!  But  I'll  go  back  and  upset  their 
plans ;  neither  of  them  shall  live  to  enjoy  the  fruits  of 
their  damnable  perfidy!" 

A  horrible  feeling  crept  over  him;  then  remember 
ing  his  boy,  and  considering  the  disgrace  the  whole 
affair  would  bring  upon  his  family  name,  he  curbed  his 
madness  and  became  more  rational. 

The  moment  his  frenzy  began  to  give  place  to  saner 
thoughts  he  felt  himself  growing  weak,  and  finally 
he  broke  down  completely  and  throwing  himself  across 
the  bed  he  sobbed  aloud :  — 

"Oh,  Margaret!  Margaret!  My  God!  how  could 
you  —  how  could  you  —  be  so  cruel  and  heartless !" 
as  he  thought  how  he  had  loved  and  adored  her  so 
completely;  watched  over  and  educated  her  in  her 
childhood,  when  she  was  poor  and  motherless;  loved 
and  petted  her  in  her  girlhood,  and  idolized  her  in  her 
womanhood!  "0  merciful  God!"  he  moaned. 

He  remained  in  his  room  all  day,  and  when  it  grew 
dark  he  went  out  into  the  still  night  air  and  sought  a 
sequestered  place.  The  full  moon  shone  brightly,  and 
as  he  emerged  from  the  trees  that  lined  either  side  of 
the  street  he  started  suddenly  at  the  sight  of  his 

119 


CHAPTER  ELEVEN 

shadow.  As  he  strolled  along  he  recalled  the  times 
many  years  ago,  when  in  foreign  lands  he  had  taken 
long  evening  strolls  with  his  affianced  bride,  and  they 
had  chatted  and  laughed  over  the  incidents  of  their 
early  love-making,  and  each  had  marveled  at  the 
blindness  of  the  other.  He  remembered  how  they 
sometimes  sat  together  in  a  secluded  nook  in  the 
gardens  and  puzzled  out  faces  and  figures  in  the  moon, 
and  builded  air  castles  for  the  future. 

Thus  he  meditated  as  he  wandered  aimlessly  along 
with  a  heavy  heart,  until  at  length  he  found  himself  in 
an  open  square,  or  park,  where  he  sat  down  on  a 
rustic  bench  beneath  the  trees.  Placing  his  hands  on 
the  back  of  the  bench  he  rested  his  face  on  them  and 
vented  his  feelings  in  convulsive  sobs  that  shook  his 
now  weakened  frame  as  if  he  had  been  seized  with  a 
violent  chill.  He  was  aroused  by  a  stern  voice 
calling,  — 

"Hey,  move  on  there!  We  don't  allow  no  drunks 
in  this  park.  There  was  a  drunk  committed  suicide 
here  last  summer." 

"I'm  not  drunk,"  he  protested. 

"None  o'  yer  back  sass,  there,  er  I'll  run  ye  in.  I've 
been  follering  ye  staggerin'  around  in  the  dark  more'n 
ten  minutes." 

It  was  obviously  useless  to  argue  the  matter  further, 
so  he  moved  away. 

"A   fitting   recompense  for   my  f oolhardiness !"   he 

120 


THE   VEILED   WOMAN  IN  THE  SHADOWS 

thought  as  he  moved  slowly  along  the  narrow  board 
walk,  not  knowing  or  caring  whither  it  led. 

Once  he  thought  of  stifling  his  pride  and  writing 
Tom  to  send  him  money  to  go  home.  But  he  reasoned, 
as  he  had  many  times  before,  that  having  left  the  im 
pression  that  he  had  destroyed  himself,  if  he  returned 
he  would  be  publicly  accused  of  weakness  and  cow 
ardice.  He  would  lose  the  respect  not  only  of  the 
public  and  his  friends,  but  of  his  own  family  as  well. 
In  his  imagination  he  could  see  the  finger  of  scorn 
pointed  at  him  from  every  quarter.  They  would  call 
him  a  coward,  and  say  that  he  returned  only  after 
someone  else  had  shouldered  his  obligations  and  put 
his  firm  on  a  sound  footing. 

"No !  no !"  he  said  —  "I  can  never  go  back  now !  I 
have  fallen  headlong  into  her  trap,  and  I'll  abide  by 
the  consequences."  He  was  glad  that  Tom  would  at 
least  be  independent  of  his  mother's  gratuities. 

He  wandered  into  the  little  public  library  and  took 
a  seat  at  the  long  reading  table.  As  he  looked  ab 
stractedly  over  the  newspapers  he  glanced  up  and  saw 
a  small  wizen-faced  man  glaring  at  him  from  the 
opposite  side  of  the  table.  Fearing  this  might  be  a 
detective  he  quickly  left  the  room,  and  as  he  hurried 
down  a  dark  street  he  looked  back  every  few  paces  to 
see  if  he  was  being  followed. 

For  several  days  he  remained  indoors,  venturing  out 
occasionally  to  stroll  about  late  at  night,  and  obtain  a 

121 


CHAPTER  ELEVEN 

morsel  to  eat.  During  the  first  week  at  the  boarding 
house  he  had  partaken  sparingly  of  the  poor  fare,  then 
changed  the  arrangement,  adopting  the  more  economi 
cal  plan  of  paying  for  his  room  and  taking  his  meals 
elsewhere.  He  became  much  emaciated  from  loss  of 
sleep  and  lack  of  proper  nourishment,  and  his  inter 
mittent  hours  of  broken  rest  were  of  late  constantly 
haunted  by  dreams  of  his  former  home  and  entangled 
business  affairs.  Continued  brooding  and  loneliness 
had  produced  a  highly  morbid  state  of  mind  and  he 
felt  at  times  that  he  was  verging  closely  on  insanity. 

One  night  when  he  had  strolled  out  under  cover  of 
darkness,  as  he  was  returning  home  from  a  restaurant 
he  noticed  a  heavily  veiled  woman  walking  rather 
closely  behind  him.  Seeing  that  she  quickened  or 
slackened  her  pace  in  such  measure  as  to  keep  about 
the  same  distance  behind  him,  he  faced  quickly  about 
and  walked  directly  toward  her;  but  she  darted  across 
the  street  and  was  soon  lost  in  the  shadows  of  the  trees. 
On  continuing  his  way  he  saw  no  more  of  her  and 
supposed  she  had  abandoned  her  pursuit. 

But  shortly  after  Mr.  Farnsworth  entered  the  house 
that  night  a  closely  veiled  woman  called  and  inquired 
of  the  landlady  if  she  had  a  guest  in  the  house  by  the 
name  of  Farnsworth;  and  upon  receiving  a  negative 
answer  she  seemed  much  puzzled,  and  went  away. 
Next  morning  she  returned  and  engaged  a  room,  paying 
a  week's  board  in  advance. 

122 


CHAPTER  XII 
THE  TURNING  POINT 

During  his  days  of  solitary  confinement  in  his  room 
Mr.  Farnsworth  fretted  himself  into  such  a  nervous 
state  that  he  was  forced  to  call  in  a  physician.  After 
diagnosing  his  case  the  doctor  recommended  "a  com 
plete  rest  from  business  worries." 

"That's  just  the  trouble,"  replied  the  patient;  "I've 
rested  so  much  already  that  my  constitution  rebels 
against  this  close  confinement." 

The  doctor  prescribed  a  tonic  and  recommended 
more  open  air  exercise.  After  taking  a  few  doses  Mr. 
Farnsworth  felt  stronger  and  more  composed.  The 
next  evening  he  dressed  and  slowly  made  his  way  down 
town.  As  he  walked  about  the  streets  and  watched 
the  people  hurrying  to  and  fro,  a  renewed  sense  of 
isolation  and  melancholy  came  over  him.  He  stood 
for  a  few  moments  on  a  street  corner  meditating 
where  he  should  go,  for  he  dreaded  to  return  again  to 
his  lonely  retreat.  He  felt  like  a  disconnected  unit  of 
humanity.  Indeed,  he  was,  if  possible,  even  more 
lonesome  than  when  locked  in  his  dismal  room;  for 
the  sight  of  the  hordes  of  unheeding  strangers  as  they 
hurried  by  only  intensified  his  loneliness.  His  sudden 
demise,  he  mused,  as  he  stood  alone  and  forlorn, 
would  provoke  no  more  than  a  passing  comment.  At 

123 


CHAPTER  TWELVE 

first  the  thought  seemed  shocking;  but  the  more  he 
dwelt  upon  it  the  more  tenable  it  appeared.  Putting 
his  hand  in  his  trousers'  pocket  he  drew  forth  a  few 
silver  coins  —  all  the  money  he  had  left.  There  was 
less  than  two  dollars.  He  returned  the  coins  to  his 
pocket,  and  stood  for  a  moment  with  bowed  head. 

"No  friends!  No  home!  No  money!  In  broken 
health,  and  no  hope  of  earning  a  livelihood!  God! 
what  changes  time  does  work!"  Just  then  a  hurrying 
pedestrian  jostled  him,  and  in  his  weakened  condition 
he  reeled  and  almost  fell,  but  caught  himself  by  the 
lamp  post. 

"There  seems  to  be  no  quarter  for  a  man  —  not 
even  on  the  street  —  when  once  he's  down,"  he 
lamented  silently. 

"No,  no!  there's  no  use!  It's  the  only  alternative," 
he  concluded  at  length,  and  turning  about  he  went 
into  the  corner  drug  store,  purchased  a  drug,  signed  his 
name  to  the  little  book,  and  quickened  his  step  as  he 
started  for  the  telegraph  office.  He  hastily  scribbled  a 
telegram  to  Tom,  and  approached  the  operator's  win 
dow;  but  hesitated  just  as  he  was  about  to  hand  the 
message  in.  Then  folding  it  slowly  he  put  it  into  his 
vest  pocket,  and  asked  the  clerk  for  a  dollar  bill  in 
exchange  for  that  amount  in  silver.  He  walked  out, 
and  going  directly  to  his  room  he  locked  himself  in. 

He  had  been  inside  but  a  few  moments  when  he 
heard  a  rap  at  the  door.  He  did  not  answer  it.  It 

124 


THE  TURNING  POINT 

was  repeated  —  much  louder.  Still  he  made  no  re 
sponse;  then  someone  turned  the  knob  and  pounded 
vigorously  on  the  door,  and  he  heard  a  woman  scream, 
"Help!  help!"  He  hurried  to  the  door  and  as  he 
threw  it  open  a  heavily  veiled  woman  rushed  hysteri 
cally  into  the  room,  crying,  — 

"Oh,  what  have  you  done?  What  have  you  done?" 
as  she  faced  him  and  stared  hard  at  him. 

He  started  back  and  stood  dumbfounded  by  this  sud 
den  apparition.  Before  he  could  collect  his  senses  and 
recover  his  powers  of  speech,  she  threw  her  arms  about 
his  neck,  exclaiming,  —  "Thank  God!  I'm  in  time! 
You  havn't  taken  it,  have  you?" 

"In  time  for  what  —  who?"  he  gasped.  "My  dear 
lady,  you  have  evidently  made  a  mistake." 

Her  arms  relaxed,  and  stepping  back  she  tore  off  her 
veil  and  stood  trembling  before  his  astonished  gaze. 

"Kitty!    My  God!     How  did  you  get  here !" 

At  that  moment  the  landlady  appeared  at  the  door 
and  inquired  the  cause  of  the  commotion,  and  seeing 
her  new  boarder  in  Mr.  Farnsworth's  room  she  gazed 
at  her  in  astonishment. 

"This  is  my  niece,"  he  explained,  "who  having  heard 
of  my  illness  came  to  see  me.  I  didn't  answer  her 
knock  promptly,  and  fearing  I  was  very  ill  or  dead, 
she  became  alarmed.  Everything  is  all  right,  I  assure 
you;  and  I'm  sorry  to  have  been  the  cause  of  any 
disturbance." 

125 


CHAPTER  TWELVE 

"Yes,"  interrupted  Kitty,  taking  up  the  cue,  "I  dis 
covered  only  yesterday  that  my  uncle  is  stopping  here, 
and  I  came  to  surprise  him." 

As  the  woman  turned  away  he  closed  the  door,  and 
turning  about  he  saw  Kitty  reading  the  telegram,  which 
she  had  picked  up  from  the  table. 

"It  would  appear  that  I  arrived  none  too  soon,  Mr. 
Alexander,"  she  said  as  she  handed  him  the  dollar  bill 
she  had  unpinned  from  the  message. 

"How  did  you  know  that  name,  and  that  I  was  here?" 
he  asked. 

"Why,  I  followed  you  here  from  the  restaurant 
night  before  last,  and  I've  been  living  here  in  the 
house  for  two  days.  You've  changed  so,  that  I  really 
wasn't  sure  it  was  you  until  I  followed  you  down  town 
tonight.  I  was  watching  you  as  you  stood  on  the 
street  corner,  and  I  followed  you  into  the  drug  store. 
I  was  standing  close  behind  you  when  you  signed  for 
that  drug;  then  I  followed  you  here." 

During  this  explanation  she  stood  mechanically 
tearing  the  telegram  into  little  bits. 

"Won't  you  please  give  me  that  poison,  Mr.  Farns- 
worth?"  she  said  appealingly,  with  outstretched  hand; 
and  obeying  her  request,  with  some  hesitation  he  drew 
forth  a  small  vial  from  his  pocket  and  handed  it  to  her. 

"I'll  dispose  of  this,"  she  said,  and  drawing  the 
cork  she  poured  the  contents  into  the  jar.  Then 
putting  her  hands  to  her  face  she  exclaimed,  — 

126 


THE  TURNING  POINT 

"Oh!  I  feel  so  dizzy!"  and  as  he  sprang  toward  her 
she  fell  fainting  in  his  arms. 

He  laid  her  on  the  bed  and  soon  revived  her  with 
cold  water. 

"What  has  happened?  Where  am  I?"  she  said 
faintly  as  she  opened  her  eyes  and  put  out  her  hands. 

"You're  perfectly  safe,  Kitty,"  he  said  reassuringly; 
"close  your  eyes  and  rest." 

As  he  sat  on  the  edge  of  the  bed  stroking  her  hand, 
a  dozen  conjectures  ran  through  his  brain.  How  had 
she  recognized  him?  and  who  had  sent  her?  The 
sight  of  a  familiar  face  brought  him  new  hope,  and  for 
the  first  time  in  weeks  he  realized  that  he  was  not 
entirely  alone  and  friendless  in  the  world.  Though 
he  was  glad  that  his  rescuer  had  arrived  at  an  oppor 
tune  moment,  he  was  thoroughly  ashamed  that  she  had 
discovered  him  almost  in  the  act  of  doing  away  with 
himself,  for  when  she  tapped  at  the  door  he  was  medi 
tating  over  the  wording  of  a  farewell  note  to  his  son. 

While  puzzling  over  the  new  situation  and  wonder 
ing  what  was  to  be  done,  he  saw  the  color  gradually 
returning  to  her  cheeks,  and  presently  she  opened  her 
eyes  and  smiled. 

"You  won't  do  it,  will  you,  Mr.  Farnsworth?  please 
promise  me." 

"No,  Kitty,  I  won't  —  I  promise  you." 

"And  please  forgive  me  for  fainting  and  being  such  a 
kitten,"  she  said,  as  she  sat  up.  "But,  really,  it 

127 


CHAPTER  TWELVE 

shocked  me  terribly,  and  I  was  so  afraid  I  should  faint 
before  I  reached  your  door.  What  did  I  do  when  I 
came  in?  I  was  so  distracted!  Did  you  think  I  was 
crazy?" 

"You  came  near  frightening  the  life  out  of  me  when 
you  rushed  in  with  that  heavy  veil  over  your  face  and 
threw  your  arms  around  my  neck.  I  felt  like  a  real 
live  hero  for  a  second,  and  expected  to  see  the  pursuing 
villain  appear  at  the  door,"  he  said,  as  he  laughed 
jovially.  He  was  suddenly  reminded  that  it  was  the 
first  time  he  had  heard  himself  laugh  since  he  left 
home. 

"Oh,  how  I  must  have  startled  you !  please  forgive 
me,"  she  pleaded  laughingly,  as  a  flush  came  to  her 
cheeks. 

"Yes,  I  forgive  you  willingly;  but  I  must  confess  it 
shocked  me  at  first,"  he  said  smilingly;  "I'm  not  ac 
customed  to  such  cordial  greetings  out  here,  though  I 
believe  the  western  people  are  known  for  their  cordi 
ality." 

"At  any  rate,  I'm  glad  you  haven't  lost  your  sense  of 
humor,"  she  said. 

"That's  about  all  I  have  left;  but  we  may  as  well 
look  on  the  best  side  of  things,"  he  remarked.  "I'm 
so  glad  to  see  you;  already  it  seems  as  if  I  were  begin 
ning  to  live  again." 

"Are  you  really  glad?" 

"Yes,  truly,  I  am  glad.    Yours  is  the  first  familiar 

128 


THE  TURNING  POINT 

face  I've  looked  into  for  many  weeks.  And  no  one 
will  ever  know  what  I've  suffered  in  that  time.  I 
never  thought  it  possible  to  crowd  so  much  mental 
agony  into  a  whole  lifetime." 

"You  look  ill  and  tired  out;  please  lie  down  here  and 
let  me  make  you  comfortable,"  she  said  as  she  got  up. 

He  had  forgotten  that  he  was  ill,  but  now  that  the 
excitement  had  subsided  the  reaction  set  in  and  he  felt 
quite  exhausted.  He  threw  himself  upon  the  bed,  and 
raising  his  head  Kitty  placed  a  pillow  under  it,  and 
drew  the  spread  over  him,  for  it  had  grown  chilly  in 
the  room. 

"You  are  feverish,"  she  said  as  she  laid  her  palm 
on  his  forehead.  In  a  few  minutes  he  fell  into  a  sound 
sleep. 

Seeing  that  he  was  fast  asleep,  her  eyes  wandered 
about  the  disorderly  room. 

"What  a  gloomy  place !"  she  thought  —  "No  wonder 
the  poor  man  got  disheartened."  She  got  up  and 
moved  about,  putting  things  in  order.  On  the  bureau 
was  a  small  bottle  of  dark  liquid,  which  she  examined 
curiously. 

"Tablespoonful  before  meals,"  she  read  on  the  label. 
"I  guess  that's  safe ;"  so  she  replaced  the  bottle.  Look 
ing  into  the  top  bureau  drawer,  which  was  partly  open, 
she  saw  some  crackers  and  a  small  piece  of  cheese. 

"Oh !"  she  moaned,  "can  it  be  that  he  has  really  been 
reduced  to  this!"  Then  she  glanced  over  her  shoulder 

129 


CHAPTER  TWELVE 

to  see  if  he  was  still  sleeping.  He  moved  uneasily  in 
his  sleep,  and  turning  quickly  about  she  stood  facing 
him,  while  she  pushed  the  drawer  in  with  her  hand 
behind  her ;  but  he  did  not  wake. 

On  a  small  table  in  one  corner  were  a  number  of 
magazines  and  newspapers  with  several  clippings  from 
the  Want  columns.  Finally  after  surveying  the  room 
to  see  if  things  were  all  in  orderly  arrangement,  she 
took  a  seat  at  the  bedside  and  scrutinized  the  features 
of  the  sleeping  man. 

How  wan  he  appeared !  —  a  mere  shadow  of  his 
former  self!     Once  a  robust  man,  six  feet  tall,  clean 
shaven,  with  a  handsome,  distinguished  looking  face,  — 
now  he  was  gaunt,  sallow  and  hollow-cheeked,  and 
his  bristly  beard  gave  him  an  unkempt  appearance. 

As  she  sat  sadly  contemplating  his  pitiable  condition, 
all  at  once  it  occurred  to  her  that  she  had  not  tele 
graphed  his  son  the  news  of  her  discovery;  and  she  at 
once  put  on  her  hat  and  wraps,  thinking  she  could  run 
down  and  send  off  the  message,  and  get  back  before  he 
woke. 

"But  suppose  he  wakes  up  while  I  am  out,"  she 
mused  as  she  looked  back  and  halted  with  her  hand  on 
the  door  knob  —  "he  will  wonder  at  my  sudden  dis 
appearance.  And  maybe  he'll  think  I've  gone!"  She 
decided  it  would  not  be  wise  to  let  him  out  of  her  sight 
even  for  a  moment  until  she  was  assured  that  he  had 
entirely  abandoned  his  purpose. 

130 


THE  TURNING  POINT 

While  thus  meditating  she  was  startled  by  a  groan 
and  an  inarticulate  guttural  sound,  and  she  saw  an 
agonized  look  in  Mr.  Farnsworth's  face  as  if  he  were 
in  distress.  She  removed  her  wraps  and  again  sat 
down  at  the  bedside.  Presently  he  opened  his  eyes 
and  stared  at  her  with  a  bewildered  look;  then  he 
smiled  pleasantly  and  reaching  out,  took  her  hand. 

"Oh,  you  are  really  here?  I  just  came  out  of  a 
terrible  dream,  in  which  I  saw  you  hunting  for  me 
away  out  among  the  hills ;  and  I  crouched  down  under 
a  great  ledge,  thinking  if  you  found  me  you  would  tell 
them  at  home  about  it.  You  passed  so  near  my  hiding 
place  that  I  could  almost  reach  you  with  my  hand; 
and  when  you  had  gone  out  of  sight  my  old  feeling  of 
loneliness  came  over  me  and  I  called  to  you,  but  you 
were  out  of  hearing.  Then  I  started  and  ran  after 
you,  but  all  at  once  it  grew  dark  and  I  couldn't  find 
you.  It  frightened  me  so  that  it  woke  me.  Thank 
God,  it  was  only  a  dream !" 

"Aha,  then  you  would  hide  from  me,  would  you?" 
she  said  laughingly,  hoping  to  cheer  him  up. 

"They  say  dreams  go  by  contraries,  you  know;  and 
I'm  sure  this  one  did  —  up  to  the  point  where  I  crawled 
out  from  under  the  ledge  and  ran  frantically  after  you. 
I'm  not  struggling  to  get  away,  now  that  I'm  awake." 

"No ;  but  maybe  that's  because  you're  too  ill  —  I 
see  you  have  been  taking  medicine." 

"Yes,  I've  spent  the  greater  part  of  the  past  four 

131 


CHAPTER  TWELVE 

days  in  bed.  But  I  felt  as  if  I  should  go  crazy  unless  I 
got  out  of  this  desolate  room,  so  tonight  I  dressed  and 
went  down  town.  Have  I  slept  long?" 

"Only  about  two  hours." 

"It  was  most  inconsiderate  of  me  to  fall  asleep  and 
leave  my  guest  to  sit  here  in  the  cold."  He  glanced 
about  the  room,  and  noting  its  tidy  appearance,  — 
"The  maid  has  been  in?"  he  asked. 

"No,  no  one  has  been  in." 

For  some  moments  both  were  quietly  absorbed  in 
thought. 

"Kitty,  your  coming  out  here  and  finding  me  as  you 
did  seems  like  a  made-to-order  detective  story.  I  can 
scarcely  realize  that  I'm  awake.  Did  my  son  send 
you  to  look  for  me?  How  did  you  happen  to  find 
me?" 

"Yes,  your  son  sent  me.  When  I  arrived  in  town  I 
went  to  the  Sheldon  Banking  Company,  with  a  letter  of 
introduction  to  Mr.  Sheldon.  There  must  be  a  lot  of 
people  out  here  that  look  like  me,"  she  said  laughingly. 
"In  Leadville  I  was  taken  for  someone  else,  and  when 
I  entered  Mr.  Sheldon's  office  he  jumped  up  with  an 
exclamation  as  though  I  were  someone  he  knew  of  old. 
When  I  told  him  I  was  looking  for  a  tall  man,  and 
described  you  as  well  as  I  could,  all  at  once  an  idea 
came  to  him  and  he  asked  if  the  man  wore  a  short 
beard.  He  said  a  man  partly  answering  my  description 
came  in  a  day  or  two  before  and  inquired  about  Farns- 

132 


THE   TURNING   POINT 

worth  &  Company,  and  that  when  he  showed  the  man 
a  newspaper  clipping  about  Mrs.  Farnsworth  he  read  it 
hurriedly  and  went  out,  all  excited.  Of  course  I 
suspected  it  was  you,  and  since  then  I've  watched  in 
the  hotels  and  restaurants  and  on  the  streets  early  and 
late." 

She  told  him  how  anxious  they  all  were  at  home; 
also  that  she  heard  it  from  Tom's  own  lips  that  the 
newspaper  story  about  his  wife  was  a  malicious  fabri 
cation.  But  she  was  surprised  at  the  utter  indiffer 
ence  with  which  he  received  this  last  statement. 

"The  reward  for  my  discovery  was  offered  by  my 
son  with  the  best  intentions;  but  it  has  caused  me 
much  annoyance  and  anxiety.  Think  of  the  un 
pleasant  newspaper  notoriety  I  should  have  been  sub 
jected  to  if  they  had  found  me!  Ever  since  I  heard 
about  it  I've  felt  like  a  hunted  criminal,  and  kept  my 
self  locked  indoors  during  the  daytime,  for  fear  of 
being  discovered  by  some  detective." 

After  pondering  for  some  moments  he  said  sadly,  — 

"Much  as  I  love  my  boy,  I  cannot  go  back;  condi 
tions  do  not  permit  it.  It  is  better  that  I  remain 
away." 

"But  your  son  has  employed  me  to  find  you,  and 
what  am  I  to  do  or  say?  It  would  be  dishonorable  to 
deceive  him  by  not  reporting  the  facts  to  him.  And 
your  poor  wife  —  she  will  be  delirious  with  joy  when 
she  hears  the  news." 

133 


CHAPTER  TWELVE 

At  the  mention  of  his  wife  he  sat  up  in  bed.  A 
frown  came  over  his  face,  and  his  features  became 
rigid. 

"My  wife,"  he  said  coldly,  and  his  words  were 
weighed  with  deliberation  —  "my  wife  has  not  con 
cerned  herself  seriously  about  me  or  my  affairs  for  a 
great  many  years.  One  at  her  age  is  not  likely  to 
change  materially;  and  I  doubt  if  she  is  as  much  in 
terested  as  you  imagine.  The  reward,  I  observe,  was 
offered  by  my  son  —  not  by  my  wife. 

"But  as  for  my  son,"  he  said  hesitatingly,  "since 
you  are  in  his  employ  your  first  duty  is  of  course  to 
him ;  and  I  presume  the  only  thing  to  do  is  for  you  to 
report  the  facts  to  him.  But  before  doing  so  I  beg 
that  you  let  me  go  away  somewhere  —  I  can't  bear 
the  thought  of  facing  him  in  my  present  condition." 

"No,  no — no!"  she  exclaimed,  "I  shall  not  leave 
you  or  let  you  go.  Duty  or  no  duty,  I  shall  remain 
with  you  —  if  you  go  away  I  will  follow  you  —  to  the 
ends  of  the  earth.  You  are  in  no  condition  to  be  left 
alone.  You  were  my  father's  friend;  you  have  been 
the  best  friend  in  the  world  to  me,  and  my  first  duty  is 
to  you.  Your  life  may  be  endangered  again;  and 
your  son  would  acquit  me  of  any  wrongdoing  for  your 
sake.  Oh,  please  let  me  stay,  Mr.  Farnsworth  - 
won't  you?"  And  leaning  forward  on  the  bed,  she 
buried  her  face  in  her  hands. 

He  reached  over  and  stroked  her   hair  tenderly. 

134 


THE  TURNING   POINT 

"Kitty,  you  are  a  noble  girl.  It  wrings  my  heart  to  see 
you  in  tears  and  know  that  I  am  responsible  for  them. 
I  couldn't  deny  your  request,  even  if  I  wished  to ;  and 
certainly  I  have  no  such  desire." 

"Then  you  promise?"  as  she  looked  up  quickly. 

"Yes,  I  promise,  but  —  " 

"But  what,  Mr.  Farnsworth?" 

"I  was  going  to  say  that  my  finances  —  " 

"Are  in  a  deplorable  state  of  depletion,"  she  inter 
rupted,  finishing  his  sentence.  "But  I  have  a  hundred 
dollars  in  my  purse,  Mr.  Farnsworth,  and  before 
that's  exhausted  I'll  look  for  a  position.  Then  when 
you  get  well  you  can  make  plenty  of  money." 

He  looked  at  her  dubiously,  and  slowly  shook  his 
head.  Seeing  his  incredulity,  she  said,  "Come,  please 
be  cheerful.  Only  a  little  while  ago  it  was  you  who 
said  we  may  as  well  look  on  the  best  side  of  things. 
See  how  quickly  I  adopt  your  suggestion?  Let  me  be 
your  cashier  and  manage  the  finances  for  a  while." 

"What  can  I  do  but  consent?"  he  asked  resignedly. 
"Then,  too,  —  do  you  remember  what  I  once  told  you 
about  whom  I  should  appeal  to  if  ever  I  became  an 
object  of  charity?  Little  did  I  think  how  accurately  I 
was  prophesying  the  very  condition  that  now  confronts 
me !"  he  said  regretfully. 

"Oh,  pshaw!  you  mustn't  talk  that  way  —  you're  a 
rich  man;  and  even  if  you  hadn't  a  dollar,  you  have 
lots  of  ability  to  earn  money,  and  you  wouldn't  remain 

135 


CHAPTER  TWELVE 

poor  very  long.    It's  impossible  to  keep  a  good  man 
down." 

After  Kitty  left  to  go  to  her  room,  Mr.  Farnsworth 
got  up  and  walked  about  as  he  meditated  over  her  re 
marks.  Coming  in  contact  again  with  someone  he  had 
known  in  his  prosperous  days  —  one  who  admired  him, 
sympathized  with  him,  and  possessed  full  confidence 
in  his  ability  —  raised  him  out  of  his  despondency, 
gave  him  renewed  courage,  and  grounded  him  more 
firmly  in  the  belief  in  himself.  He  began  to  reason 
out  the  causes  leading  up  to  the  futility  of  his  mis 
directed  efforts  of  late.  "Why,  I'm  no  more  fitted  for 
the  positions  I've  been  seeking  than  the  persons  occu 
pying  those  positions  are  fitted  for  the  work  I've  been 
accustomed  to!"  he  reasoned.  "I've  permitted  my 
troubles  to  weigh  me  down;  I've  lost  my  bearings  here 
amid  strange  conditions  and  strange  people,  and  like  a 
man  lost  in  the  forest,  I've  been  running  distractedly 
in  the  opposite  direction  from  the  way  to  success. 
And  now  to  think  that  after  all  my  years  of  experience 
and  knowledge  of  men  and  affairs  it  falls  to  the  lot  of 
a  mere  child  in  worldly  observation  to  remind  me  of 
my  capacity  and  the  opportunities  that  are  open  to 
me!" 


136 


CHAPTER  XIII 
A  COZY  BREAKFAST  FOR  TWO 

Soon  after  Mr.  Farnsworth  had  completed  his  toilet 
in  the  morning  he  heard  a  gentle  rap  at  his  door,  and 
on  opening  it,  there  stood  Kitty  with  one  of  the  maids 
bearing  a  large  tray  of  dishes. 

"Just  set  it  down  there,  Nellie,"  she  said  as  she 
cleared  the  center  table,  "and  I'll  attend  to  arranging 
the  dishes." 

After  spreading  the  tablecloth  and  setting  the  break 
fast  for  two,  consisting  of  fruit,  boiled  eggs,  toast  and 
coffee,  — 

"There,  now!"  she  said;  "I  don't  know  whether  you 
like  boiled  eggs  or  not;  but  you've  got  to  eat  them 
anyway,  because  they're  good  for  you  —  your  nurse 
prescribes  them." 

"A  breakfast  fit  for  a  prince!"  as  he  drew  his  chair 
up  to  the  table  and  sat  down  opposite  her.  "Kitty, 
you  are  a  wonder,"  he  said  when  he  had  finished  his 
orange.  "I  used  to  read  of  such  women  in  books,  but 
I  never  saw  one  in  flesh  and  blood  existence  before." 

"Sh-sh,"  she  said  —  "I  refuse  to  be  called  such 
ambiguous  names.  Sugar  and  cream  in  your  coffee?" 
as  she  daintily  held  up  a  lump  of  sugar  between  her 
thumb  and  forefinger,  while  the  aroma  issued  from  the 
little  coffee  pot  at  her  elbow.  She  dropped  the  lump 

137 


CHAPTER  THIRTEEN 

into  the  cup,  and  after  pouring  in  the  cream  she  started 
pouring  the  coffee,  while  with  the  other  hand  she 
reached  for  a  piece  of  toast.  "Please  excuse  my 
fingers,  and  take  this  piece  of  toast  and  butter  it  while 
it's  hot.  I  boiled  those  eggs  three  —  this  coffee  runs 
slower  than  molasses  —  the  thing  must  be  stopped 
up.  Let's  see,  what  was  I  saying  when  the  coffee-pot 
interrupted  me?  Oh,  yes,  those  eggs  —  they  boiled 
three  minutes  —  I  hope  you'll  like  them  that  way. 
We  professional  nurses,  you  know,  are  always  allowed 
to  go  into  the  kitchen  and  cook  the  food  for  our 
patients ;  so  I  exercised  my  prerogative  the  first  thing. 
You  should  have  seen  me  lord  it  over  those  people 
down  there;  and  you'd  have  laughed  to  hear  me  tell 
them  what  a  sick  man  ought  to  eat.  Is  your  coffee 
sweet  enough?  —  I'm  not  surprised  that  you're  half 
starved  in  this  boarding  house.  The  woman  looked  as 
if  she  thought  I  was  crazy  when  I  asked  for  four  fresh 
eggs.  Said  they  only  bought  a  dozen  at  a  time.  How 
is  that  toast?  I  toasted  four  slices,  but  the  girl  dropped 
one  on  the  floor  as  we  came  up  the  stairs,  so  we'll  have 
to  get  along  with  three  this  morning.  Do  take  that 
other  piece  —  I  only  want  one." 

Thus  she  chatted  gaily  along  through  the  meal,  and 
Mr.  Farnsworth  was  so  captivated  by  her  thoughtful- 
ness  and  lighthearted  manner  that  he  forgot  for  the  time 
being  that  he  had  ever  had  a  care  or  a  moment's  pain. 
For  the  past  sixteen  years  it  had  been  his  custom  to 

138 


A  COZY   BREAKFAST  FOR  TWO 

breakfast  alone,  except  on  Sundays,  and  during  all 
those  years  spent  amid  wealth  and  luxury  he  had  not 
enjoyed  a  morning  meal  as  he  had  this  one. 

At  the  conclusion  of  the  meal,  when  she  was  clearing 
the  table,  and  putting  the  dishes  on  the  tray,  he  said,  - 

"Kitty,  the  least  I  can  say  for  you  and  your  break 
fast  is  that  the  past  half  hour  has  been  the  happiest  I 
have  spent  in  many  years." 

"You  ought  to  be  the  happiest  man  in  the  world, 
Mr.  Farnsworth  —  it  takes  so  little  to  make  you  so. 
Already  you  look  and  act  ten  years  younger  than  you 
did  yesterday,  and  at  that  rate,  we'll  soon  make  a 
young  man  of  you  again." 

"Yes,  with  your  ways  you  could  make  a  man  most 
anything  you  wanted  him  to  be.  A  few  hours  ago  I 
thought  life  wasn't  worth  living,  yet  it  never  seemed 
sweeter  nor  more  hopeful  than  it  does  at  this  moment. 
It  is  just  these  little  things  that  we  men  like  so  much, 
and  seldom  get.  There  is  some  saying  about  looking 
after  the  pennies,  and  letting  the  dollars  take  care  of 
themselves.  If  men  and  women  would  practice  this 
motto  in  the  home  relationship  there  would  be  more 
happiness  and  fewer  applications  for  divorce." 

After  a  few  thoughtful  moments,  Kitty  remarked— 
"I  never  could  see  why  people  refuse  to  be  agreeable 
when  they  have  everything  to  make  them  so.    Mother 
used  to  say  that  the  trouble  with  most  married  women 
is  that  they  make  no  effort  to  study  their  husbands; 

139 


CHAPTER  THIRTEEN 

and  that  every  man  has  some  vulnerable  spot  besides 
the  proverbial  stomach.  She  used  to  say  that  a  man 
needs  to  be  fed  on  love  and  attentions,  the  same  as  you 
would  give  him  food  —  just  enough  to  satiate  him,  but 
never  enough  to  nauseate  him." 

"Yes,  Kitty,  your  mother  was  a  very  tactful  woman. 
Your  father  often  told  me  that  their  married  life  was  a 
perennial  honeymoon." 

"They  were  very  happy  together,"  said  Kitty,  as 
she  sat,  with  downcast  eyes,  in  a  dreamy,  reminiscent 
mood.  "What  belonged  to  one  always  belonged 
equally  to  the  other,  and  what  pained  one  always 
seemed  equally  to  pain  the  other  —  even  to  the  point 
of  death,  for  he  soon  followed  her." 

"I  knew  your  mother  before  your  father  married 
her.  She  was  not  of  the  type  of  women  who  make 
the  mistake  of  keeping  their  husbands  in  perpetual 
ignorance  of  how  much  they  love  them,  and  imagining 
that  they  should  keep  up  a  constant  show  of  dignity 
and  reserve." 

When  Kitty  left  the  room  a  little  later  Mr.  Farns- 
worth  sat  for  some  moments  in  a  reflective  mood. 

"What  a  priceless  jewel  that  girl  is!"  he  thought  as 
he  gazed  at  the  door  she  had  just  closed.  "And  what 
an  added  incentive  a  man  would  have  in  life,  with  a 
wife  such  as  she  to  encourage  and  spur  him  on,  in 
stead  of  one  that  operated  as  a  damper  on  his  ambi 
tions  whenever  he  attempted  to  do  a  kind  act,  or  dared 

140 


A  COZY  BREAKFAST  FOR  TWO 

harbor  a  dream  of  domestic  happiness.  She  could 
inspire  hope  in  a  wooden  image!  Indeed  I  wasn't 
much  better  than  a  wooden  man  when  she  found  me, 
and"  —  getting  up  —  "already  I'm  beginning  to  feel 
like  Alexander  the  Great !" 

Soon  after  Kitty  went  out  Mr.  Farnsworth  put  on 
his  coat  and  hat  and  went  down  town,  stopping  at  the 
first  barber  shop  he  saw. 

"Been  prospecting  up  in  the  'ills,  sir?"  inquired  the 
barber  as  he  leisurely  surveyed  the  task  before  him. 

"Yes,  I've  been  in  the  'ills,"  he  said  jokingly. 

When  he  rose  from  the  chair  later  and  viewed  him 
self  in  the  mirror  he  looked  and  felt,  for  the  first  time 
since  leaving  home,  somewhat  like  the  Jefferson 
Farnsworth  of  former  days. 

Upon  returning  to  the  house  he  found  Kitty  in 
street  attire,  much  disturbed  over  his  sudden  disappear 
ance. 

"Why,  Uncle!"  she  exclaimed,  "where  have  you  been 
and  what  under  the  sun  have  you  done  to  yourself?" 

"Nothing,  Kitty,  except  to  demonstrate  what  a  good 
nurse  you  are.  I  may  as  well  tell  you  now,  you'll 
never  succeed  as  a  professional  nurse  —  your  patients 
will  get  well  so  quickly  that  the  doctors  will  all  boycott 
you.  Two  hours  ago  I  was  a  bewhiskered  invalid, 
having  my  meals  carried  to  me,  and  now  I  feel  as  if  I 
could  do  a  hundred  yards  in  ten  seconds,  —  all  due  to 
you,  Kitty." 

141 


CHAPTER  THIRTEEN 

"Oh,  I'm  so  glad  to  see  you  looking  and  feeling  so 
much  better." 

"Yes,  it  all  seems  like  a  happy  combination  of 
miracles,  —  so  impossible  that  I  can't  believe  yet  that 
my  health  and  good  spirits  are  anything  but  an  illusion. 
And  yet  the  experiences  of  the  past  few  weeks  seem 
even  more  like  a  dream;  or  rather,  a  nightmare." 

"It  seems  a  pity,  don't  you  think,  to  keep  such  good 
news  from  your  son?  I'm  just  aching  to  send  him  a 
message,"  she  said  enthusiastically. 

It  did  not  occur  to  him  that  Tom  could  be  notified 
without  his  wife  also  learning  about  him;  and  that 
was  the  thing  he  wished  to  avoid.  At  length  he 
replied,  — 

"This  involves  many  considerations.  I  am  not  yet 
prepared  to  have  them  know  my  condition;  and  still, 
it  will  be  impossible  for  you  to  return,  as  of  course  you 
must,  without  notifying  them." 

Noting  the  troubled  look  in  his  face  she  instantly 
regretted  having  brought  the  subject  up  so  soon,  and 
turned  the  matter  off  by  saying,  - 

"Never  mind,  uncle,  those  matters  will  take  care  of 
themselves  later.  Meanwhile  I  must  run  down  town 
and  do  a  few  errands,"  as  she  waved  good-by  and 
skipped  lightly  down  the  stairs. 

Mr.  Farnsworth  went  to  his  room  and  lighting  a 
cigar  sat  down  to  map  out  some  new  plan  of  action. 
Kitty's  appearance  on  the  scene  had  already  revived 

142 


A  COZY  BREAKFAST  FOR  TWO 

in  him  some  of  his  old-time  self-reliance.  Upon 
rallying  his  normal  senses  he  now  set  his  mind  in  con 
sistent  order  to  the  task  before  him,  —  that  of  placing 
himself  on  a  firm  footing  in  the  world. 

Obviously  now  the  thing  of  first  importance  was  to 
establish  relationship  with  someone  who  was  in  the 
position  to  give  him  a  start ;  and  Sheldon  was  of  course 
the  logical  man.  In  him  he  could  even  confide  the 
secret  of  his  real  identity,  which  would  at  once  insure 
him  a  hearty  welcome. 

"How  could  I  have  been  so  utterly  stupid  as  not  to 
have  done  this  before?"  he  asked  himself.  As  he  was 
passing  the  bureau  in  walking  restlessly  about  the 
room  he  stopped  before  the  mirror  and  glanced  at  the 
reflection  of  his  changed  features.  "A  veritable 
Jekyll  and  Hyde  transformation!"  he  mused,  "out 
wardly  and  inwardly." 

At  the  time  of  leaving  home  he  was  a  director,  and  a 
large  stockholder  of  record,  in  the  Sheldon  Mining 
Company,  of  which  the  elder  Mr.  Sheldon  had  been 
president.  "Perhaps  the  stock  still  stands  in  my 
name!  Perhaps  I  am  still  a  director!  What  if  the 
vacant  presidency  has  not  yet  been  filled!" 

He  financed  the  mines  for  Mr.  Sheldon  years  before, 
and  was  the  fiscal  agent  in  the  East;  he  had  been  all 
over  the  properties  and  understood  the  financial  affairs 
from  A  to  Z.  Moreover  he  enhanced  the  material 
wealth  of  several  of  his  friends  whom  he  induced  to  go 

143 


CHAPTER  THIRTEEN 

in  on  the  "ground  floor"  when  the  mines  were  first 
opened.  As  he  revolved  these  matters  in  his  mind  he 
marveled  at  his  previous  blindness  to  the  opportunities 
that  now  seemed  to  stand  out  before  him. 

"Why,  instead  of  applying  for  a  servile  clerkship 
there,  as  I  did  a  short  time  ago,  I  should  have  applied 
for  the  presidency!  the  presidency!  Imagine  Jefferson 
Farnsworth,  in  his  right  mind,  sweeping  out  the  office 
and  running  errands  for  the  Sheldon  Mining  Company, 
which  he  virtually  organized  and  financed,  and  in 
which  he  now  holds  more  stock  than  any  other  interest 
outside  of  the  Sheldon  estate!  I'll  go  and  see  young 
Sheldon  at  once,  and  tell  him  who  I  am." 

He  strode  about  the  room  with  boyish  impatience, 
consulting  his  watch  every  few  minutes,  and  wishing 
Kitty  would  hurry  back  so  he  could  tell  her  of  his  plans. 
A  little  later  there  was  a  tap  at  the  door,  and  at  his 
bidding  Kitty  entered. 

"Excuse  me,  uncle,  I  didn't  mean  to  stay  so  long, 
but  I  met  that  Mr.  Sheldon  again,  and  he  insisted  on 
asking  me  a  whole  string  of  questions  —  if  I  found  'my 
man,'  if  I  liked  the  town,  where  I  was  stopping,  how 
long  I  am  to  remain  here,  and  fifty  other  things.  He 
seemed  much  interested  —  thought  I  looked  like  some 
one  he  knew,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing.  I  told  him  I 
had  found  my  uncle,  who  had  been  ill;  then  he  in 
quired  if  we  knew  the  Farnsworths.  I  told  him  we 
did;  and  he  went  on  to  tell  me  what  close  friends  his 

144 


A  COZY   BREAKFAST  FOR  TWO 

father  and  Mr.  Farnsworth  were.  He  even  asked  me 
to  go  out  driving  with  him!  And,  say,  what  else  do 
you  think  he  asked  me?  He  wanted  to  know  if  my 
uncle  was  the  same  person  that  he  told  me  about  when 
I  presented  my  letter  of  introduction  at  the  bank.  I 
didn't  know  what  to  say,  but  after  stammering  awhile 
I  told  him  I'd  ask  you  if  you  had  been  in  to  see  him. 
I  thought  I  should  never  get  away  from  him.  Did 
you  think  I  had  run  away?" 

After  this  volley  of  rapid-fire  statements  and  ques 
tions  she  drew  a  deep  breath,  and  sat  down. 

"No;  but  if  you  had,  I  couldn't  have  followed  you 
very  far  on  my  capital  of  sixty-five  cents,  of  which  I 
find  myself  possessed  after  paying  for  a  haircut,  sham 
poo,  shave,  shine,  and  a  cigar.  If  ever  I  make  any 
financial  headway  in  the  world  I  can  look  back  and 
truthfully  say  that  I  'started  without  a  dollar.'  " 

"But,"  she  said,  "you  promised  to  let  me  take  care 
of  the  finances  until  you  got  to  earning  money  again." 

"Pardon  me,  Kitty,  for  interfering  with  your 
prerogatives.  While  you  were  out  Mr.  Alexander 
has  been  having  a  silent  talk  with  Jefferson  Farns 
worth,  and  incidentally  calling  him  a  few  names." 

"How  dreadful!  Tell  me  about  it,  uncle,"  she  said 
eagerly. 

"Well,  omitting  the  details,  and  getting  at  the  results 
—  when  the  elder  Mr.  Sheldon  died  he  was  the  presi 
dent  of  the  Sheldon  Mining  Company;  and  up  to  the 

145 


CHAPTER  THIRTEEN 

time  I  left  New  York  the  vacancy  had  not  been  filled. 
Before  you  came  here  I  —  as  Horace  Alexander  — 
went  to  the  principal  office  and  applied  for  a  position 
as  clerk,  and  was  almost  scornfully  refused.  Later  I 
went  back  and  tried  to  get  a  position  as  messenger. 
Now,  since  you  came,  my  aspirations  have  advanced. 
I  see  that  in  the  first  instance  I  applied  for  the  wrong 
position ;  and  the  second  time,  for  one  that  was  already 
filled.  I'm  going  back  now  —  as  Jeffersqn  Farns- 
worth  —  and  apply  for  the  presidency,  which  pays  ten 
thousand  dollars  a  year;  and  I'm  going  to  get  it,  too, 
if  it  hasn't  already  been  filled.  As  messenger  I  could 
only  get  about  five  dollars  a  week.  Looks  like  an 
unwarranted  assumption,  doesn't  it,  Kitty?" 

He  was  quite  taken  back  by  her  composedness  and 
her  laconic  reply. 

"Why,  no;  I  don't  think  so  at  all.  They  would  be 
lucky  to  get  you  for  president." 

"Kitty,  you  are  a  marvel.  I  thought  this  prodigious 
idea  would  startle  you  out  of  your  senses ;  but  it  seems 
to  strike  you  as  the  natural  thing  to  do.  You  certainly 
have  the  instinct  of  a  true  helpmate,  —  to  encourage 
a  man  by  an  unwavering  confidence  in  him." 

"You  seem  to  have  forgotten  who  you  are,"  she 
said:  "You  are  Jefferson  Farnsworth,  the  New  York 
banker,  —  a  man  of  large  affairs.  And  what's  more, 
you  are  still  the  head  of  a  large  banking  institution 
there." 

146 


CHAPTER  XIV 
KITTY'S  VERSATILITY 

Next  morning  Mr.  Farnsworth  went  to  call  upon 
Mr.  Sheldon.  He  walked  up  the  stone  steps  and 
entered  the  bank  with  almost  the  same  alertness  and 
air  of  confidence  that  he  would  have  felt  in  entering 
his  own  office  six  months  before.  On  being  shown 
into  Mr.  Sheldon's  office  that  gentleman  looked  up  in 
surprise. 

"Why  you  have  changed  since  I  last  saw  you!" 

"Yes,  —  my  beard,  you  mean.  I  changed  it  at  the 
barber's  for  a  clean  face,"  he  said  good  naturedly.  "I 
came  in  to  apologize  for  the  abrupt  manner  of  my 
leaving  you  the  other  day.  As  you  doubtless  saw, 
I  was  greatly  upset  at  the  time.  I  also  wish  to 
confess"  —  as  he  closed  the  door  leading  into  the 
counting  room  —  "that  I  have  been  guilty  of  a  gross 
deception." 

"A  deception!"  echoed  Mr.  Sheldon,  looking  at  him 
curiously  —  "Whom  have  you  deceived?" 

"Everybody;  but  principally  myself." 

He  asked  for  a  pen  and  wrote  on  a  piece  of  paper 
which  he  handed  to  Mr.  Sheldon  — 

"Do  you  recognize  that  signature?"  he  asked. 

Glancing  at  it,  Mr.  Sheldon  glanced  up  at  his  ques 
tioner  with  a  wondering  look.  Without  even  excusing 

147 


CHAPTER  FOURTEEN 

himself  he  passed  into  the  counting  room,  and  return 
ing  a  few  minutes  later,  said  sternly,  — 

"A  clever  forgery,  sir;  but  that  signature  is  no 
longer  in  use  at  this  bank." 

"Perhaps  not;  but  I  have  asked  you  for  no  money 
on  it." 

"No,  but  I  thought  best  to  forestall  any  such  possible 
request,"  he  said  as  he  moved  uneasily  in  his  chair, 
and  shuffled  the  papers  on  his  desk,  indicating  his 
desire  to  terminate  the  interview. 

Rising  to  his  full  height  Mr.  Farnsworth  said:  "I 
may  as  well  come  to  the  point  at  once  —  /am  Jefferson 
Farnsworth,  at  your  service." 

Mr.  Sheldon  grasped  the  arms  of  his  chair  and  stared 
at  him  with  mingled  surprise  and  contempt,  astonished 
at  his  impertinence.  Seemingly  convinced  that  the 
man  was  an  impostor,  he  asked,  — "Well,  what  are 
your  proposals?  Please  be  brief." 

"I  don't  understand  you,"  said  Mr.  Farnsworth 
haughtily. 

"Nor  do  I  understand  what  kind  of  a  clumsy  trick 
you  are  trying  to  play,"  retorted  the  other. 

"Pardon  my  stupidity  —  I  now  appreciate  your 
point  of  view,  — which  is  but  a  natural  one,  —  "  said 
Mr.  Farnsworth  as  he  again  seated  himself.  "It  did  not 
occur  to  me  that  I  have  been  dead  several  weeks.  Do 
you  recall  the  run  on  this  bank  about  ten  years  ago?" 

"Yes,  I  remember  it." 

148 


KITTY'S  VERSATILITY 

"Then  perhaps  you  remember,  also,  that  inside  of 
twenty-four  hours  from  the  time  the  run  started, 
Farnsworth  &  Company  despatched  a  special  car  with 
a  hundred  thousand  dollars  in  gold  and  silver  coin 
from  their  Denver  correspondents,  and  that  that 
money  was  poured  out  on  your  counters  and  desks, 
and  had  the  instant  effect  of  restoring  confidence  and 
stopping  the  run?" 

"Yes,  yes,  I  remember  the  incident  perfectly,"  as  he 
leaned  forward  and  stared  eagerly  at  the  speaker. 

Leaning  back  in  his  chair  Mr.  Farnsworth  pointed 
to  a  large  framed  picture  hanging  over  the  president's 
desk  — 

"And  do  you  know  whose  portrait  that  is?" 

Looking  up  at  the  picture,  then  back  to  Mr.  Farns 
worth,  he  sprang  to  his  feet  and  thrust  out  his  hand,  — 

"Great  God!  then  you're  not  dead,  after  all!  But 
why  didn't  you  tell  me  this  before?" 

Mr.  Farnsworth  related  briefly  the  conditions  that 
prompted  him  to  leave  home,  and  after  explaining  why 
he  couldn't  return,  he  hinted  that  he  hoped  he  might 
be  of  some  service  to  the  Sheldon  Mining  Company. 

"Why,  of  course;  you  are  just  the  man  we  want, 
Mr.  Farnsworth  —  or,  excuse  me  — -  Mr.  Alexander. 
Father  would  have  given  you  a  half  interest  in  this  bank 
if  you  had  asked  for  it,  and  the  very  least  I  could  offer 
you  is  the  presidency  of  that  mine,  if  you  will  accept  the 
same  salary  father  drew — ten  thousand  dollars  a  year." 

149 


CHAPTER  FOURTEEN 

As  he  left  the  bank  after  some  further  conversation, 
and  hastened  to  tell  Kitty  the  good  news,  he  repeated 
to  himself,  "Ten  thousand  dollars  a  year!"  And 
only  a  short  time  before  he  had  applied  for,  and  been 
refused,  a  position  as  a  grocery  clerk  at  eight  dollars  a 
week!  And  the  files  of  the  great  Sheldon  Mining 
Company,  of  which  he  was  now  to  become  president, 
contained  his  application  for  the  position  of  errand  boy ! 

When  he  reached  home  he  found  the  little  table 
drawn  out  in  the  center  of  the  room,  and  on  it  there 
was  a  box  of  Havana  cigars,  with  ash  tray  and  matches, 
and  some  of  the  latest  magazines.  Beside  the  table 
stood  an  easy  chair,  with  a  new  smoking  jacket  laid 
over  the  back,  and  the  toes  of  a  new  pair  of  slippers 
protruded  from  under  the  front  of  the  chair. 

"Kitty,  you  are  irresistible,"  he  said  when  she  came 
in  a  little  later  to  learn  the  result  of  his  interview.  "I 
wouldn't  exchange  you  and  my  future  prospects  for  a 
kingdom  and  a  thousand  vassals  thrown  in." 

"And  pray,  what  are  your  prospects,  that  you  set 
such  a  high  estimate  upon  them?" 

"They  are  flattering;  but  they  are  nothing  —  merely 
nothing  —  compared  with  you,  or  your  companion 
ship." 

"I  know,  but  you  can't  live  on  me  or  my  companion 
ship  —  that  won't  buy  necessaries  and  pay  rent." 

"But  I  have  lived  and  thrived  on  it,  and  it  has  made 
about  the  most  wonderful  change  in  me  that  was  ever 

ISO 


KITTY'S  VERSATILITY 

wrought  in  a  man.  From  abject  poverty,  dejection 
and  impending  death  to  a  complete  state  of  health, 
happiness  and  prospective  affluence  in  a  few  hours  is  a 
phenomenon  worth  recording;  and  that's  precisely 
what  you've  done  for  me." 

"I've  done  nothing  but  what  thousands  of  other 
women  could  and  would  do  if  given  the  same  oppor 
tunities,"  she  replied. 

"I  wish  that  were  true ;  or  that  in  all  the  world  there 
was  even  one  more  girl  like  you,  so  I  might  introduce 
her  to  my  son  Tom." 

"Uncle,  if  you  don't  stop  blarneying  me  you'll  have 
me  so  mixed  up  that  I  won't  know  what  I  am.  I'm  a 
wonder,  a  marvel,  a  prodigy,  and  lastly  I  am  irresistible. 
If  I  should  happen  to  meet  and  fall  in  love  with  another 
such  irresistible  force,  just  think  what  would  happen! 
But,  come,  you  haven't  told  me  the  result  of  your 
interview." 

He  told  her  briefly  of  the  conference  with  Mr. 
Sheldon.  "A  special  meeting  of  the  board  will  be 
called  in  a  few  days,"  he  said,  "but  in  the  meantime, 
come  to  think  of  it,  I  must  become  a  shareholder  of 
record  for  at  least  one  share  of  stock,  in  the  name  of 
Horace  Alexander." 

"I  think  we  can  fix  that ;"  she  responded  cheerfully  — 
"just  leave  that  little  detail  to  your  cashier." 

"But,  Kitty,  you  had  only  a  hundred  dollars  when 
you  came,  and  —  " 

151 


CHAPTER  FOURTEEN 

"Now,  please  don't  ask  me  for  an  accounting  until 
the  end  of  the  month,"  she  broke  in. 

Next  morning  Kitty  called  at  the  bank  and  was 
shown  to  Mr.  Sheldon's  office. 

"I  told  you  I  might  telephone  you  in  a  day  or  so  if  ! 
could  go  driving  with  you,"  she  said,  "but  as  my  uncle 
wished  me  to  do  a  little  errand  for  him,  I  came  in.  He 
wishes  to  purchase  one  share  of  stock  in  the  Sheldon 
Mining  Company  in  order  to  make  him  eligible  in  case 
he  is  made  president." 

"Your  unclel"  he  gasped  —  "do  you  mean  to  tell  me 
you  are  Mr.  Farnsworth's  niece?" 

"Why  not?"  she  asked  innocently,  meeting  his 
astonished  gaze  with  no  sign  of  emotion. 

"It's  no  wonder  he's  such  a  brilliant  man,"  he  said 
half  to  himself,  but  intentionally  loud  enough  for  her 
to  hear. 

"I  never  saw  such  a  place  for  flattery ;  it  seems  to  be 
in  the  air  out  here.  Even  my  uncle  has  caught  the 
infection,"  she  said  laughingly. 

"There  is  a  vast  difference,  you  know,  between 
flattery  and  honest  praise,"  he  replied. 

After  learning  the  market  value  of  the  stock  Kitty 
drew  out  her  letter  of  credit  on  the  Denver  bank  and 
Mr.  Sheldon  cashed  it  for  her.  She  counted  out  the 
money  for  the  stock  and  handed  it  to  him,  but  he  re 
turned  it  smilingly  —  "Don't  bother  about  that, 
please.  I  have  already  anticipated  the  need,  and 

152 


KITTY'S  VERSATILITY 

ordered  a  hundred  shares  put  in  the  name  of  Horace 
Alexander." 

"Oh,  Mr.  Sheldon!"  she  exclaimed  in  astonishment, 
"You  are  altogether  too  good.  I'm  afraid  uncle  can 
never  repay  your  kindness." 

"But  I  assure  you  he  has  already  paid  it  a  hundred 
times  over,  in  advance.  Had  it  not  been  for  his  kind 
ness  to  my  father  I  should  have  had  no  bank  here  to 
be  president  of,  and  no  mining  company  to  make  him 
president  of." 

As  she  arose  to  go  Mr.  Sheldon  said,  "Please  don't 
accuse  me  again  if  I  observe  that  Mr.  Farnsworth  is  a 
very  fortunate  man  in  having  so  charming  a  niece  to 
look  after  these  matters  for  him." 

She  colored  slightly,  and  replied  quickly,  "But  he  is 
more  highly  favored  in  having  the  confidence  of  those 
who  know  and  appreciate  his  kind-heartedness  and  his 
capabilities." 

"You  haven't  yet  promised  to  go  driving  with  me," 
he  said,  as  she  turned  to  go. 

"No ;  the  truth  is,  Mr.  Sheldon,  my  time  has  been  so 
taken  up  with  my  uncle's  affairs  that  I  have  denied 
myself  all  other  pleasures;  and  I  have  thought  best  to 
make  no  engagements  until  he  is  comfortably  settled. 
You  are  very  kind,  and  I  hope  you  won't  think  me 
ungrateful.  When  uncle  is  more  at  ease  I  shall  feel 
less  constrained,"  she  said,  looking  up  at  him  with  a 
sweet  smile  that  meant  more  to  him  than  all  her  words. 

153 


CHAPTER  FOURTEEN 

"I  quite  understand,  and  shall  be  content  to  await 
your  pleasure,"  he  said  as  he  bowed  her  out. 

If  she  had  looked  back  as  she  walked  briskly  down 
the  street  she  would  have  seen  him  standing  at  the 
front  window  of  his  office  with  both  hands  thrust  deep 
into  his  pockets,  looking  wistfully  at  her  retreating 
figure. 

William  Wilder  Sheldon  was  a  typical  western  man 
of  affairs.  A  number  of  daring  escapades  were 
credited  to  his  boyhood  days,  and  his  boy  associates 
nicknamed  him  "Wilhelm  der  Wild."  This  sobriquet 
followed  him  through  college  in  the  East ;  but  the  last 
year  or  two  of  his  college  life  had  brought  him  to  his 
sober  senses,  and  upon  returning  home  he  took  a  posi 
tion  as  "runner"  in  his  father's  bank.  By  degrees  he 
worked  himself  up  to  the  vice-presidency,  and  for  the 
past  three  years,  while  his  father's  attentions  were 
absorbed  chiefly  in  the  mining  business,  the  manage 
ment  of  the  bank  had  rested  largely  upon  him. 

Although  of  splendid  physique  he  never  interested 
himself  very  much  in  college  athletics,  or  even  in 
college  studies.  A  great  deal  of  his  time  was  spent  in 
Boston,  and  once  he  had  a  love  affair  with  an  actress 
which  caused  his  parents  a  great  deal  of  anxiety. 
Under  competent  tutelage  he  managed  at  the  end  of 
four  years  to  squeeze  through  and  get  his  degree, 
which  he  admitted  to  his  college  mates  was  wholly 
gratuitous. 

154 


KITTY'S  VERSATILITY 

His  father  once  told  him  that  he  ought  to  have  been 
sent  to  a  girls'  seminary  where  he  could  study  the 
faces  and  habits  of  the  gentler  sex  with  less  waste  of 
time  and  money.  When  his  parents  refused  to  con 
sent  to  his  marrying  the  actress,  he  declared  that  he 
would  never  marry  anyone,  and  thus  far  he  had  kept 
his  vow.  Locally  he  was  looked  upon  as  a  good 
"catch,"  and  although  he  had  frequently  been  seen  in 
the  company  of  young  women,  none  had  succeeded  in 
attracting  his  serious  attentions.  He  was  sometimes 
called  "Batch"  Sheldon.  With  his  sister  he  inherited 
his  father's  wealth,  variously  estimated  at  from  two 
to  three  millions. 

As  he  now  stood  behind  the  window  while  his  eyes 
followed  Kitty  down  the  street  he  exclaimed  to  himself : 

"By  thunder !  —  she's  as  clever  and  elusive  as  she  is 
beautiful !" 

It  was  something  new  for  a  girl  to  refuse  to  drive  or 
dine  with  him,  and  yet  this  girl  had  shown  clearly  that 
she  was  not  over-anxious  to  do  either. 

"For  the  favor  of  that  little  enchantress  I'd  give  that 
uncle  of  hers  the  whole  of  my  interest  in  that  mine, 
with  the  presidency  thrown  in,"  he  mused  as  he  turned 
back  to  his  desk. 

In  less  than  four  weeks  after  Kitty  found  Mr. 
Farnsworth  he  was  elected  president  of  the  Sheldon 
Mining  Company.  He  was  also  elected  to  the  board 

155 


CHAPTER  FOURTEEN 

of  directors  to  fill  the  vacancy  caused  by  his  own  death 
some  weeks  previous.  Mr.  Sheldon  was  elected  a 
director  in  place  of  his  father. 

Kitty,  who    had    just    heard    the    news    from    Mr. 
Sheldon  at  the  bank,  was  hurrying  to  the  hotel  - 
where  they  had  now  taken  more  comfortable  quarters 
—  to  tell  Mr.  Farnsworth,  when  just  as  she  was  cross 
ing  the  street  she  heard  someone  call,  - 

"Oh,  Miss  Bellinger!" 

Upon  looking  around  she  stared  into  the  face  of  a 
young  man  whom  she  recognized  as  one  of  the  clerks 
she  had  seen  in  Farnsworth  &  Company's  office.  For 
a  moment  she  was  stunned  and  did  not  speak. 

"Good  Heavens!"  she  moaned,  half  audibly,  at  the 
thought  of  their  being  discovered.  She  stood  looking 
at  him  in  sheer  desperation,  when  suddenly  taking  a 
cue  from  a  farce  she  had  once  seen  enacted  on  the 
stage,  she  looked  up  at  the  tops  of  the  buildings,  and 
pointing  with  her  finger  as  he  advanced  toward  her,  - 

"Look!  look!  He's  coming  down!  he's  coming 
down!  Oh!  Oh!  He's  falling !" 

"Who's  falling?"  asked  the  young  man  as  he  turned 
quickly  and  looked  up.  She  ran  up  to  him  and  grasp 
ing  the  fleshy  part  of  his  arm  she  shook  it  and  pinched 
it  so  that  he  almost  cried  out  with  pain.  Seeing  that 
her  stratagem  was  at  once  effective  she  went  on  with 
growing  confidence  — 

"Can't  you — can't  you — can't  you  see  him,  you  blind 

156 


KITTY'S  VERSATILITY 

idiot?  My  husband !  my  husband !  He's  hiding  from 
me.  There!  he's  crawling  back !  Just  look  at  him !" 

Again  he  turned  to  look,  this  time  edging  away  at  a 
safe  distance. 

"I  thought  you  said  he  was  falling,"  he  said  as  he 
saw  nothing  unusual  on  the  housetops. 

"Yes,  he  was ;  but  he  caught  himself,  and  Oh,  look ! 
look!  there  he  comes  down  again,  head  first."  And 
seizing  his  arm  again  with  both  hands  she  shook  him 
with  all  her  might. 

"Who  —  what — who  is  he?"  he  asked,  as  he  tried 
to  shake  himself  free. 

"Why,  don't  you  know  him,  you  poor  imbecile? 
He's  my  long  lost  husband,  and  I,  Sherlock  Holmes," 
she  exclaimed,  as  she  jammed  her  hat  down  on  her 
head  and  gesticulated  with  her  free  arm,  "have  been 
hunting  for  him  all  these  years !  And  now  when  I  find 
him  he  dashes  his  brains  out  before  my  very  eyes." 

Observing  that  her  actions  were  beginning  to  attract 
the  notice  of  the  passersby  she  seized  him  by  the  coat 
sleeve,  —  "Come  along  with  me !"  she  commanded  — 
"You'll  do  just  as  well.  I'll  marry  you,  even  with  your 
face !  —  and  get  even  with  him  for  deceiving  me." 

As  she  dragged  him  along,  a  few  of  the  onlookers  fol 
lowed.  He  was  so  alarmed  by  this  sudden  maniacal  out 
burst  that  once  he  endeavored  to  jerk  away  and  run ;  but 
she  tightened  her  grip  and  he  thought  it  was  better  to  go 
quietly  along  to  avoid  further  commotion  in  the  street, 

157 


CHAPTER  FOURTEEN 

"Where  are  you  taking  me?"  he  asked  at  length. 

"Why,  don't  you  know?  You  just  promised  to 
marry  me.  We're  going  to  the  station  to  get  married. 
You  don't  imagine  you  can  escape  me  now,  do  you, 
after  all  these  anxious  years?" 

He  saw  that  they  were  approaching  the  railroad 
station,  and  cast  about  for  some  alley  where  he  might 
escape;  but  suspecting  his  thoughts  she  twitched  at 
his  arm  and  continued  to  pull  him  along.  When 
they  arrived  at  the  station  a  passenger  train  was  stand 
ing  on  the  track. 

"Conductor!  where  does  this  train  go?"  she  asked. 

"It  goes  to  Kansas  City,"  was  the  reply. 

"All  right,  go  ahead  then ;"  she  answered,  —  "We're 
going  the  other  way  —  to  Denver  —  to  get  married  — 
aren't  we,  dearie?     I'm  just  dying  to  marry  you !"  she 
said  as  she  released  her  hold  and  stood  staring  into  his 
face. 

"Not  on  your  life"  he  said,  as  he  dashed  away  and 
clambered  aboard  the  train,  leaving  her  standing 
laughing  hysterically. 

When  the  train  pulled  out  Kitty  hurried  to  the  hotel 
and  found  Mr.  Farnsworth  in  his  room.  In  a  state  of 
breathless  exhaustion  she  dropped  into  a  chair  and 
broke  into  paroxysms  of  laughter. 

"Why,  Kitty  —  what  has  happened?"  he  asked. 

"Ha!  ha!  Oh,  dear  me!  it  was  the  most  ridiculous 
scene  you  ever  saw;"  and  again  she  became  hysterical. 

158 


KITTY'S   VERSATILITY 

"My  dear  Kitty !  What  has  come  over  you?  Have 
you  gone  crazy?" 

"Yes,  yes,  that's  it  —  I'm  crazy;  that's  just  it!"  as 
she  leaned  far  back  in  the  large  rocking  chair. 

He  jumped  up  and  ran  to  the  bathroom  for  a  towel 
which  he  dipped  in  water,  and  moistened  her  brow. 

"In  heaven's  name,  what  has  happened?"  he  asked 
excitedly. 

"Thank  you,  I  feel  better  now,  and  I'll  tell  you  about 
it;"  and  she  proceeded  to  relate  what  had  occurred. 

When  she  had  finished  Mr.  Farnsworth  said,  - 

"Well,  Kitty,  you  are  a  versatile  genius,  —  a  detec 
tive,  a  nurse,  a  financier,  and  now  a  crazy  woman! 
What  next?" 

"Oh,  I'm  so  sorry  I  made  such  a  show  of  myself  on 
the  street.  What  will  people  think  of  me?  But  I 
simply  had  to  scare  that  man  out  of  town  and  get  rid  of 
him  at  any  cost.  Poor  fellow,  he  was  so  frightened,  I 
wonder  that  he  didn't  collapse  on  my  hands  before  I 
got  him  to  the  station.  You  just  can't  imagine  the 
feeling  of  desperation  that  came  over  me.  At  first 
I  felt  I  was  acting  like  a  fool,  but  when  I  saw  he  actu 
ally  thought  I  was  crazy,  it  gave  me  confidence,  and 
really  I  lost  all  sense  of  propriety  —  I  can  scarcely 
realize  how  I  succeeded  so  well. 

"Oh,  uncle,  what  if  he  should  come  back  again!" 
she  finally  exclaimed  in  alarm. 


159 


When  Mr.  Farnsworth's  position  was  assured,  he 
and  Kitty  began  casting  about  for  more  spacious  living 
quarters.  They  were  of  one  mind  that  in  view  of 
the  approaching  warm  weather  it  would  be  desirable 
to  find  a  quiet  retreat  in  the  suburbs,  or  even  a  few  miles 
out  in  the  country.  Mr.  Sheldon  placed  his  carriage 
at  their  disposal  and  his  coachman  who  was  acquainted 
with  the  locality,  showed  them  about.  They  spent 
several  afternoons  driving  around,  but  vacant  houses 
were  scarce,  and  such  available  ones  as  they  found 
were  badly  located,  and  in  a  poor  state  of  repair. 

One  pleasant  day  while  driving  out  in  the  country 
the  coachman  pointed  out  a  place  on  the  hillside  about 
half  a  mile  from  the  road,  which  he  said  was  known 
as  the  Haunted  Caves. 

"Oh,  let's  visit  them!"  cried  Kitty;  and  the  man 
reluctantly  turned  in  at  the  entrance  leading  up  to  the 
place.  It  was  a  steep  climb  by  a  circuitous  route  over 
a  rugged  way.  Apparently  it  had  at  some  previous 
time  been  a  beautiful  driveway,  with  overhanging 
boughs,  but  the  brush  and  weeds  had  now  grown  up, 
and  to  all  appearances  it  was  unfrequented.  Upon 
coming  within  a  few  hundred  yards  of  the  buildings 
they  were  halted  by  a  large  tree  which  had  been  felled 

160 


THE  HAUNTED  CAVES 

across  the  path  to  block  the  passage,  and  on  the  log 
was  a  crudely  painted  placard, 

NO  TRESPASSING. 

Leaving  the  carriage,  Mr.  Farnsworth  and  Kitty 
continued  the  journey  afoot  —  the  coachman  declin 
ing  to  venture  further  —  and  on  reaching  their  desti 
nation  they  found  a  large,  two-story  dwelling,  well 
located  in  a  cluster  of  tall  trees.  In  front  were  six 
large  columns  supporting  a  superstructure  extending 
out  over  a  broad  piazza,  and  the  rear  of  the  building 
stood  close  up  against  the  base  of  a  perpendicular  cliff 
with  jagged  overhanging  rocks. 

Though  the  blinds  were  closed,  the  large  front  door 
stood  wide  open,  and  as  they  stepped  inside  Kitty 
remarked,  — 

"Ugh !  doesn't  it  seem  spooky?" 

Inside  the  house  the  hardwood  floors  and  trimmings 
were  in  a  good  state  of  preservation ;  and  after  inspect 
ing  the  lower  front  rooms  they  passed  to  the  rear  and 
found  a  passageway  which  led  back  into  a  cave  about 
eight  by  twelve  feet,  under  the  precipice.  Mr. 
Farnsworth  struck  a  match  and  saw  that  at  the 
farther  left  hand  corner  there  was  a  heavy  door 
loosely  swung  on  large  iron  hinges. 

"Looks  like  the  retreat  of  a  band  of  outlaws,"  he 
remarked  as  he  opened  the  door  and  peered  curiously 
into  the  next  room,  which  was  a  little  smaller  than 

161 


CHAPTER  FIFTEEN 

the  first.  In  this  room  was  a  crudely  constructed  table 
on  which  stood  a  tallow  candle.  He  lit  the  candle  and 
saw  that  from  a  crevice  in  the  wall  there  protruded  a 
small  iron  bar  on  which  hung  a  much  worn  duck  jacket 
with  a  pair  of  old  trousers.  A  stool  stood  near  by, 
and  in  one  corner  was  a  narrow  bed  on  which  lay  an 
old  mattress  with  some  bed  clothes  piled  in  confusion. 

"Some  one  must  inhabit  this  place,"  remarked  Mr. 
Farnsworth  as  he  groped  about  with  the  candle. 

"Let's  get  out ;  we  may  be  intruding,"  said  Kitty  in 
alarm  as  she  started  for  the  door.  As  they  came  out 
they  found  a  door  at  the  right  of  the  passageway  which 
led  into  a  small  room  used  as  a  kitchen.  It  was  fur 
nished  with  a  little  cookstove,  a  table,  a  bench,  and  a 
few  crude  cooking  utensils.  It  was  evident  that  this 
room  had  been  recently  tenanted.  As  Kitty  looked 
out  at  a  side  window  which  was  let  down  from  the  top 
she  uttered  a  shriek  and  drew  back.  Mr.  Farnsworth 
sprang  forward  and  looking  out  he  saw  an  old  white- 
bearded  man  sitting  on  a  large  rock  at  the  base  of  the 
ledge  with  an  old  army  musket  lying  across  his  knees. 

"Hello,  my  friend;"  he  called  out,  "do  you  occupy 
these  premises?"  Without  answering,  the  old  man  slid 
down  off  the  rock  and  started  toward  the  window.  Bent 
with  years,  he  ambled  along,  keeping  his  small  bead- 
like  eyes  fixed  steadily  on  the  figure  in  the  window. 

"Pardon  us  for  trespassing,  but  we  didn't  know  the 
place  was  occupied,"  said  Mr.  Farnsworth. 

162 


THE  HAUNTED  CAVES 

"It  is  occupied;"  said  the  old  man  sulkily;  then  as 
his  eyes  rested  on  Kitty,  who  now  came  up  and  stood 
beside  Mr.  Farnsworth,  his  countenance  softened. 
"But  I  don't  object  to  visitors  if  they  are  the  right  sort. 
You  know  this  place  is  haunted,  and  nobody  will  live 
here  but  me  and  the  ghosts.  But  they've  never 
bothered  me  any." 

"Oh,  how  delightful!  I  love  haunted  houses," 
chimed  in  Kitty's  sweet  musical  voice. 

"Then  you're  more  afraid  of  me  than  you  are  of  a 
ghost,"  he  said  smilingly. 

"No,  indeed,  I'm  not  at  all  afraid  of  you;  but  your 
presence  was  so  unexpected  that  I  was  startled  for  a 
moment." 

The  old  man  walked  around  and  came  in  through  the 
front  door.  They  heard  his  footsteps  echo  through 
the  hall  as  he  approached. 

"What  a  strange  looking  old  man!"  whispered 
Kitty  —  "perhaps  he  has  an  interesting  history.  Let's 
find  out  about  him." 

When  the  hermit  appeared  at  the  kitchen  door  he 
apologized  for  the  run-down  appearance  of  things,  and 
invited  them  to  make  themselves  at  home.  His 
manner  and  language  indicated  that  he  was  a  man  of 
some  education. 

"I  don't  have  many  visitors  here,  and  no  women 
folks  around  to  keep  things  tidy,"  he  said. 

"Don't  you  ever  get  lonesome?"  inquired  Kitty. 

163 


CHAPTER  FIFTEEN 

"Lonesome?     No ;  bless  you,  I  never  think  of  that." 

Mr.  Farnsworth  lighted  a  cigar  and  offered  him  one, 
which  he  took. 

"It's  been  so  long  since  I  had  a  cigar  that  I've  most 
forgotten  how  to  smoke  one.  My  old  pipe  and  gun 
are  my  only  steady  companions  here." 

Under  the  mellowing  influence  of  the  Havana  and 
Kitty's  pleasing  smiles  and  inquisitiveness  the  old 
hermit  became  quite  loquacious.  They  talked  of  the 
country  about,  and  of  mining  matters,  and  Mr. 
Farnsworth  told  him  that  he  was  interested  in  Colorado 
mines. 

At  length  Kitty  remarked,  "I  should  think  this  place 
must  have  an  interesting  history;  would  you  mind 
telling  us  about  it  —  how  it  came  to  be  haunted?" 

"Yes,  it  has  a  long  history,  and  there  are  lots  of 
stories  and  legends  about  it."  The  old  man  went  out 
and  soon  returned  with  a  box,  on  which  he  seated 
himself. 

"Sit  down  on  that  bench,  both  of  you,  and  I'll  tell 
you  about  it,  if  you'd  like  to  listen." 

"Yes,  please  do,"  said  Kitty  as  she  seated  herself  on 
the  bench  and  pulled  Mr.  Farnsworth  down  at  her 
side. 

"Father  and  daughter,  I  reckon ;"  said  the  hermit  as 
he  sat  facing  them. 

"No,  I'm  sorry  to  say  she's  no  nearer  relation  than 
a  niece,"  replied  Mr.  Farnsworth. 

164 


THE  HAUNTED   CAVES 

He  then  proceeded  with  his  story.  "You  see  this 
place  was  built  a  great  many  years  ago  by  a  man  from 
the  East.  He  was  said  to  have  lots  of  gold  and  silver 
stored  in  the  two  caves  back  there,"  pointing  toward 
the  underground  openings  they  had  just  explored,  — 
"and  one  night  a  band  of  robbers  broke  in  and  murdered 
all  three  of  them  —  the  man,  wife,  and  son,  and  carried 
off  all  the  money.  The  bodies  were  dragged  into  one 
of  the  caves  back  there,  and  after  that  night  no  one 
would  ever  live  here.  The  brush  and  trees  grew  up  all 
around  the  place,  and  people  called  it  the  Haunted 
Caves.  That  was  in  the  days  of  the  James  boys  and 
the  Younger  brothers  and  the  Ford  boys,  back  east  in 
Missouri. 

"Well,  about  the  time  of  the  robbery,  someone  said 
he  saw  Jesse  James  and  Cole  Younger  in  these  parts, 
and  everybody  thought  the  gang  was  here.  Several 
times  after  that  different  people  said  they  saw  smoke 
coming  from  the  chimneys  here,  but  they  were  all 
afraid  to  investigate.  They  thought  the  gang  camped 
here  every  little  while,  and  even  the  officers  of  the  law 
gave  this  place  a  wide  berth. 

"Then  about  twenty  years  ago,  shortly  after  Jesse 
James  was  killed  in  Missouri,  a  man  came  out  here 
from  the  East,  and  he  with  a  man  from  Chicago  and 
myself  formed  a  partnership  to  look  up  mining  pros 
pects.  I  had  saved  up  some  money,  and  among  us 
we  all  had  about  a  hundred  thousand  dollars.  The 

165 


CHAPTER  FIFTEEN 

man  from  the  East  didn't  have  any  money  when  he 
came,  but  a  rich  relative  back  there  sent  him  a  draft 
for  fifty  thousand  dollars." 

He  hesitated,  and  addressing  Mr.  Farnsworth,  he 
asked,  "What  makes  you  look  so  uneasy  there?  I 
guess  that  seat  is  not  as  comfortable  as  you've  been 
used  to." 

"I'm  quite  comfortable,  thank  you.  Here,  light 
another  cigar.  Your  story  interests  me." 

"Thank  you,  —  I  don't  mind  if  I  do.  Well,  as  I 
was  saying:  the  other  man  and  myself  knew  the 
country  out  here,  so  our  experience  was  put  into  the 
partnership  to  make  up  for  what  we  lacked  in  having 
as  much  money  as  he  had,  and  we  were  equal  partners. 
We  bought  this  place  here  cheap,  and  made  it  our 
headquarters.  The  Chicago  man  was  married  and  his 
wife  kept  house  for  us.  We  bought  up  some  mining 
claims  in  different  parts  of  the  state,  and  one  of  them 
proved  to  be  a  mighty  rich  find. 

"A  couple  of  years  or  so  later  we  sold  out  our  mines 
to  a  syndicate  for  over  half  a  million  dollars.  We  all 
went  to  Denver,  collected  the  money  in  a  draft  on  New 
York,  got  it  cashed  and  brought  the  money  here, 
mostly  in  large  bills,  done  up  in  three  bundles.  We 
reached  here  late  in  the  afternoon,  and  that  night 
when  we  came  to  settle,  Benson  —  that  was  the  name 
of  the  man  from  the  East  —  kicked  out  of  his  agree 
ment  and  wanted  half  of  the  money.  You  didn't 

166 


THE  HAUNTED  CAVES 

know  the  man,  did  you?"  as  he  halted,  —  noticing 
Mr.  Farnsworth's  expression. 

"Go  on,  go  on,  please  —  tell  us  what  happened." 

"Well,  this  Benson,"  he  said  as  he  re-lighted  his 
cigar,  "was  always  an  ugly  fellow  to  get  along  with, 
and  he  claimed  half  of  the  money.  It  ended  up  in  a 
row,  and  the  Chicago  man  pulled  his  gun.  Like  a 
flash  Benson  knocked  it  out  of  his  hand,  then  they 
clinched  and  fell  on  the  floor.  In  some  way  Benson 
got  hold  of  the  gun  and  shot  the  other  man." 

"A  murderer !  My  God !"  exclaimed  Mr.  Farnsworth. 

"Yes,  he  came  mighty  near  being  a  murderer. 
Then  he  turned  on  me  and  before  I  could  get  out  of 
the  way  he  hit  me  on  the  head  with  the  big  pistol  and 
I  fell.  I  felt  him  hit  me  again  while  I  was  down,  but 
after  that  I  knew  nothing." 

Lifting  his  hat  and  exposing  a  large  scar  on  his  head, 
he  continued,  —  "You  see  this  scar?  Well,  I've  never 
been  quite  right  since  that  time.  Some  folks  say  I'm 
crazy.  But  it  only  comes  on  in  spells;  and  when  I 
feel  it  coming  on  I  go  into  that  dark  cave  out  there 
away  from  the  daylight  and  lock  myself  in  until  I  get 
all  right  again! 

"When  I  came  to,  Benson  was  gone,  and  he  took  all 
the  money  with  him,  except  about  forty  thousand 
dollars  in  small  bills.  I  guess  he  would  have  taken 
them,  too,  but  he  had  all  he  could  get  away  with." 

"And  did  the  other  man  die?"  asked  Kitty  excitedly. 

167 


CHAPTER  FIFTEEN 

"No,  he  got  well  after  a  few  months.  We  divided 
what  money  Benson  left,  and  I  bought  his  interest  in 
this  place.  I've  waited  here  with  that  old  musket 
loaded  ever  since,  for  that  man  Benson  to  show  his 
face  here  again.  Once  I  heard  that  he  had  died  in  San 
Francisco,  and  his  body  was  taken  East;  but  I  don't 
believe  it.  I  don't  believe  that  God  Almighty  ever 
intended  for  that  man  to  die  a  natural  death ;  and  year 
after  year  I've  prayed  that  He  would  send  him  back 
here  on  some  excuse,  so  I  could  kill  him  like  a  sheep- 
killing  dog." 

He  glanced  significantly  at  the  musket  which  stood 
leaning  against  the  wall  near  by. 

"Fortunately  for  the  man  himself,  and  perhaps  for 
the  community  at  large,"  said  Mr.  Farnsworth,  "the 
report  you  heard  is  true  —  he  is  dead."  The  old  man 
sprang  to  his  feet  and  clenched  his  fists.  A  sinister 
gleam  shot  from  his  little  eyes. 

"Then  you  knew  him?"  he  asked. 

"Yes,  to  my  great  sorrow." 

"And  you  know  for  sure  that  he's  dead?" 

"Yes,  absolutely.  His  remains  were  buried  in  New 
York." 

The  old  hermit  sank  down  upon  the  box  again  and 
with  bowed  head  he  fumbled  nervously  with  his  hands. 

During  all  this  time  Kitty  sat  stupefied  with  wonder. 
"What  can  it  all  mean?"  she  thought,  noting  Mr. 
Farnsworth's  interest. 

168 


THE   HAUNTED   CAVES 

At  length  the  hermit  looked  up  with  a  vacant  ex 
pression.  "Then  there's  nothing  more  for  me  to  live 
for.  For  years  I've  fought  off  old  age,  sickness,  and 
death,  living  on  the  one  hope  of  meeting  that  man. 
Something  has  told  me  that  he  would  come  back  here, 
and  I've  waited  and  waited  and  waited  for  him.  Now 
I  must  die  unrevenged." 

"Don't  you  think,"  asked  Kitty,  "that  he  atoned  for 
his  sins  in  mental  and  perhaps  physical  suffering?  and 
that  his  punishment  was  more  prolonged  than  it  would 
have  been  if  you  had  killed  him?  I  believe  that  people 
get  at  least  some  part  of  their  retribution  before  they 
die." 

"Maybe  you're  right,  young  lady.  I'll  try  to  look  at 
it  that  way;  but  I've  always  felt  that  he  was  living 
somewhere  in  luxury  on  that  money."  Then  with 
quavering  voice  he  said,  "I  hope  the  curse  of  God  will 
follow  it  wherever  it  went  after  his  death,  —  unless  he 
left  it  to  charity  —  and  I  know  he  never  did  that." 

Mr.  Farnsworth  shuddered. 

"You  may  at  least  find  some  consolation  in  knowing 
that  your  wish  was  long  ago  anticipated  in  realization. 
The  curse  followed  the  money.  I  can  assure  you  of 
that." 

"Oh,  I'm  sorry;  I'm  sorry.  I  didn't  mean  what  I  said. 
It's  a  pity  his  sins  had  to  be  handed  down  on  innocent 
persons.  Don't  think  I'm  heartless.  It's  too  bad; 
too  bad!"  he  moaned.  "Now  I  begin  to  feel  lonely. 

169 


CHAPTER  FIFTEEN 

No  relatives,  and  no  one  to  come  near  me  —  I  must 
die  alone  —  neglected.  The  hope  of  meeting  that  man 
has  kept  me  company,  and  warded  off  loneliness. 
People  around  here  are  all  afraid  of  me  —  afraid  I  will 
kill  them  with  that  gun.  I've  kept  it  always  at  my 
side  or  in  my  hand,  night  and  day.  But  I  pledge  you 
my  word,  I  never  had  an  evil  thought  against  anybody, 
but  that  one  man." 

"You  shall  not  be  entirely  alone,"  said  Kitty;  "I  will 
come  to  see  you;  and  perhaps  my  uncle  will  also. 
Please  don't  be  so  discouraged." 

Thus  they  departed,  leaving  the  old  man  sitting  on 
the  box  near  the  kitchen  stove,  with  his  face  buried  in 
his  hands,  while  his  elbows  rested  on  his  knees. 

On  the  way  home  they  were  both  in  a  meditative 
mood,  and  but  few  words  passed  between  them. 
That  evening  Kitty  asked,  - 

"Uncle,  don't  you  suppose  we  could  rent  that  place 
and  fix  it  up?  Perhaps  the  old  man  would  be  glad  to 
have  us  there  if  we  would  let  him  stay." 

"A  good  idea,  Kitty;   but  what  about  the  ghosts?" 

"Pshaw!  I  don't  believe  in  'em.  We  didn't  see 
any,  and  I  don't  think  anyone  else  ever  did." 

Next  morning  they  drove  out  to  the  place  again. 
Mr.  Farnsworth  halloed  as  they  entered  the  front  door, 
but  the  echo  of  his  voice  was  the  only  response.  They 
looked  about  the  grounds,  in  the  kitchen,  and  into  the 
caves,  but  the  hermit  was  nowhere  to  be  found.  As 

170 


THE   HAUNTED   CAVES 

they  were  returning  from  the  caves  they  noticed  an 
open  door  leading  up  a  back  stairway,  and  mounting 
the  steps  they  came  into  a  broad  vacant  hallway  on 
the  second  floor.  Mr.  Farnsworth  halloed  again,  and 
a  feeble  voice  from  one  of  the  back  rooms  answered,  — 

"Who's  there?" 

"Friends,  who  called  on  you  yesterday,"  he  said. 

"Come  in." 

They  opened  the  door,  and  there  lay  the  old  man  on 
a  bed  by  a  window  at  the  farther  side  of  the  room. 

"We  are  back  again,  you  see,"  said  Kitty  as  she 
advanced  and  unwrapped  a  package  containing  some 
sweetmeats  which  she  arranged  daintily  on  a  little 
stand  by  the  bedside. 

"Welcome!  welcome!  my  friends,  I'm  glad  to  see 
you.  I've  passed  a  long,  uncomfortable  night." 

His  eyes  were  sunken  and  to  all  appearances  he  was 
in  distress. 

"You  are  too  feeble  to  remain  here  alone,"  said 
Kitty. 

"Yes,  but  it's  not  for  long;"  he  said  sadly;  "it  will 
soon  be  over.  No  one  cares  for  me,  and  I  don't  want 
to  live." 

"Won't  you  let  me  care  for  you?"  asked  Kitty,  as 
she  looked  compassionately  down  at  him. 

His  eyes  moistened  and  his  lips  twitched  as  he  looked 
up  at  her  and  smiled  faintly. 

"You  seem  like  an  angel;  this  is  no  place  for  you." 

171 


CHAPTER  FIFTEEN 

"No,  I'm  just  a  plain  ordinary  human  being,  and  I'm 
going  to  prove  it  to  you,"  she  replied  as  she  laid  off  her 
wraps,  and  asked  Mr.  Farnsworth  for  a  pencil  and 
paper. 

"This  reminds  me  of  old  times  in  New  York,"  she 
remarked  as  she  made  up  a  list  of  articles.  "Let's 
see  —  sugar,  coffee,  bread,  butter,  cream,  meat, 
potatoes,  coffee  pot,  frying  pan,  cups  and  saucers, 
plates,  knives,  forks,  and  spoons,"  she  rattled  off  as 
she  ran  over  the  list  she  had  made.  "Oh,  yes,  there's 
salt  —  and  a  jar  of  raspberry  jam.  Now,  Uncle,  let's 
send  the  man  back  to  town  for  these,  and  while  he's 
gone  if  you'll  make  a  fire,  I'll  tidy  things  up  a  little." 

The  old  hermit  stared  at  her  in  bland  amazement, 
as  Mr.  Farnsworth  took  the  paper  and  started  off. 

"Oh,  wait  a  second,  uncle;  tell  the  driver  to  go  to 
some  intelligence  office  and  hire  a  woman  for  a  few 
days,  and  bring  her  along.  —  Say,  —  uncle !"  she 
called  from  the  door,  as  he  was  disappearing  down  the 
steps ;  "be  sure  and  tell  the  man  not  to  let  that  woman 
know  where  he  is  taking  her  to  or  she  might  refuse  to 
come.  —  And,  uncle,  just  a  second,  —  please  add 
some  soap  and  towels  and  dishcloths  to  that  list  — 
and  a  dishpan.  —  That's  all  I  think  of  now." 

Early  in  the  afternoon  the  man  returned  with  the 
several  articles,  and  he  brought  along  a  sturdy  looking 
Irish  woman.  Kitty  met  them  at  the  front  door  and 
explained  to  the  woman  what  she  was  to  do. 

172 


THE  HAUNTED  CAVES 

"Are  you  afraid  of  ghosts?"  she  asked  as  they  en 
tered  the  kitchen. 

"Holy  Mother!  is  they  ghosts  in  this  house?"  and 
she  turned  to  go  out. 

"No,  no;  come  back;  there  are  no  ghosts  here.  I 
was  only  joking." 

The  woman  timidly  entered  the  kitchen,  casting  her 
eyes  about  with  a  doubtful  air. 

"Sure,  oi'm  thot  'fraid  of  ghosts  thot  I'd  die  in  me 
tracks  if  oi  even  heard  one.  They  do  say  thot  some 
where  hereabouts  there's  a  hoonted  cave  thot  not  a 
mother's  son'll  go  near." 

"You  never  saw  the  place,  did  you?"  asked  Kitty. 

"No,  mum,  I'd  nivver  git  near  enough  to  it  for  thot." 

Kitty  went  to  look  for  Mr.  Farnsworth,  and  told  him 
he  must  make  fast  the  door  leading  to  the  caves,  or 
they  would  surely  lose  their  new  cook. 

A  few  days  later  when  the  old  hermit  had  improved 
in  health  and  spirits  he  agreed  to  lease  the  premises  to 
Mr.  Farnsworth  on  condition  that  he  be  allowed  one 
room  and  his  board. 

A  gang  of  men  were  set  to  work  cutting  out  and 
repairing  the  driveway  up  to  the  house,  and  clearing 
up  about  the  premises.  A  force  was  also  put  to  work 
on  the  buildings,  painting  and  getting  them  in  order 
for  occupancy.  New  furniture  was  ordered,  to  arrive 
as  soon  as  the  roadway  was  clear,  and  the  house  in 
condition  to  receive  it. 

173 


CHAPTER  FIFTEEN 

Kitty  was  in  high  glee  as  she  tripped  about  from  one 
part  of  the  house  to  another,  superintending  the  work 
and  making  plans  for  locating  the  different  pieces  of 
furniture.  In  due  time  the  place  was  made  ready  for 
occupancy,  and  Mr.  Farnsworth  and  Kitty  bade  good-by 
to  their  quarters  at  the  hotel  and  took  up  their  abode 
at  the  Haunted  Caves. 


174 


CHAPTER  XVI 
THE  MYSTERIOUS  LETTER 

The  adjacent  country  around  the  Haunted  Caves 
was  sparsely  settled,  and  there  was  but  little  travel 
along  the  main  thoroughfare  in  front  of  the  place. 
Scarcely  an  acre  of  arable  soil  was  to  be  found  within 
a  radius  of  a  mile  in  any  direction,  though  among  the 
rocks  and  ledges  there  was  a  heavy  growth  of  brush 
and  scrub  timber.  In  former  years  that  section  of  the 
country  was  regarded  as  an  ideal  retreat  for  outlaws. 

These  conditions,  however,  only  enhanced  the  at 
tractiveness  of  the  place  in  Kitty's  estimation,  for  in 
her  early  girlhood  days  she  had  spent  the  summer 
seasons  on  her  father's  country  place  in  the  Adiron- 
dacks,  where  she  rode  horseback,  fished  in  the  lakes 
and  mountain  streams,  and  for  days  at  a  time  had 
enjoyed  the  seclusion  of  the  solitary  retreat  without 
coming  in  contact  with  anyone  from  the  outside 
world.  It  was  a  sad  blow  to  her  when  her  mother's 
death  and  her  father's  financial  embarrassment  com 
pelled  her  to  give  up  the  place  with  all  its  childhood 
associations.  Since  that  time  she  had,  in  her  hopes 
and  dreams,  often  pictured  herself  in  just  about  such 
a  rustic  resort  as  the  one  she  had  now  found. 

Mr.  Farnsworth  bought  her  a  fine  saddle  horse  from 
Mr.  Sheldon's  stables,  and  already  she  had  explored 

175 


CHAPTER  SIXTEEN 

the  country  for  miles  about.  She  usually  managed  it 
so  that  in  returning  from  her  rides  she  would  reach 
the  entrance  at  about  the  time  when  Mr.  Farnsworth 
came  out  from  town,  and  the  anticipation  of  finding 
Kitty  waiting  for  him  at  the  two  large  stone  columns 
guarding  the  gateway  came  to  be  one  of  the  pleasant 
incidents  of  his  life.  She  would  get  into  the  back  seat 
with  him  and  lead  her  horse  behind  while  they  chatted 
over  the  happenings  of  the  day. 

She  never  failed  to  inquire  about  affairs  at  the  office, 
and  she  generally  had  an  animated  story  to  relate  about 
some  new  cave  or  chasm  that  she  had  discovered  dur 
ing  the  day. 

After  dinner  in  the  cool  late  spring  evenings  she 
would  frequently  curl  herself  up  on  the  great  bearskin 
rug  before  the  open  fireplace  in  the  lounging  room  and 
chat  with  Mr.  Farnsworth  while  he  sipped  his  after  din 
ner  coffee ;  then  listen  while  he  read  the  newspaper,  or 
from  some  book ;  occasionally  showing  her  wakef ulness 
and  interest  by  interposing  some  remark  or  exclamation. 

If  moments  of  moodiness  ever  crept  into  her  exist 
ence  she  always  banished  them  while  in  the  presence 
of  Mr.  Farnsworth,  and  she  was  ever  alert  to  his  per 
sonal  comforts  in  the  home.  The  servants  all  loved 
her,  and  the  Irish  cook  remarked  that  with  her  sunny 
disposition  she  had  lured  all  the  ghosts  from  their 
ancient  abode  at  the  Haunted  Caves,  and  made  the 
place  cheery  and  habitable. 

176 


THE   MYSTERIOUS  LETTER 

In  the  morning  hours  when  her  musical  voice  rang 
through  the  halls  or  about  the  yard,  even  the  distant 
hills  seemed  to  smile  back  an  echo  of  enchantment. 
Indeed,  the  old  hermit  was  moved  to  say  that  the  place 
no  longer  deserved  its  former  appellation,  but  ought 
henceforth  to  be  known  as  the  Enchanted  Caves. 

Some  of  their  friends,  including  Mr.  Sheldon,  sug 
gested  that  the  word  "Haunted"  be  dropped  on  account 
of  its  forbidding  aspect,  and  the  place  called  the  Caves ; 
but  Kitty  insisted  that  it  retain  its  old  name,  as  there 
was  a  quaintness  about  it  that  appealed  to  her.  She 
argued,  "It  won't  frighten  away  our  real  friends,  and 
the  rest  of  the  world  we  don't  care  about." 

One  evening  when  Mr.  Sheldon  dined  with  them  he 
became  so  enraptured  over  Kitty  and  her  pleasing 
manners  that  just  before  his  departure  he  drew  Mr. 
Farnsworth  aside,  - 

"I  must  confess,"  he  said,  "that  that  bewitching 
niece  of  yours  has  completely  captivated  me,  and  if 
there's  a  ghost  of  a  show  of  my  making  any  impression 
on  her  I  should  like  to  pay  her  some  attention,  — 
with  your  permission.  She  appears  to  be  oblivious  of 
the  fact  that  there  is  anyone  else  in  the  world  but  you, 
and  thus  far  I've  scarcely  been  able  to  get  an  approv 
ing  glance  from  her.  Why,  if  you  weren't  related  to 
her  I'd  swear  that  she  is  in  love  with  you." 

"Yes,"  replied  Mr.  Farnsworth,  "Kitty  has  been  a 
great  comfort  to  me ;  I  don't  know  what  I  should  have 

177 


CHAPTER   SIXTEEH 

done  without  her.  I  presume  of  course  that  sometime 
she  will  marry  and  leave  me;  but  the  thought  is  so 
depressing  that  I  never  permit  myself  to  dwell  on  it. 
I  only  know  that  while  she's  with  me  I'm  happy,  and 
that  when  she  leaves  me,  as  eventually  she  will,  I  —  " 

"But  suppose  she  should  marry,"  interposed  Mr. 
Sheldon,  "you  could  still  make  your  home  with  her. 
And  if  she  married  someone  with  whom  you  have 
interests  in  common,  it  would  make  matters  all  the 
more  congenial  for  you." 

"I  had  never  thought  of  the  matter  in  that  light,"  he 
said,  "but  I  fear  that  I  have  in  me  enough  of  man's 
characteristic  selfishness  to  expect  more  attention  than 
she  would  be  able  to  give  me  under  those  conditions. 
A  month  in  her  company  is  filled  with  more  real  happi 
ness  than  I've  had  in  the  past  nineteen  years,  and  I 
can't  tell  you  how  much  I  feel  indebted  to  her.  My 
one  consolation  is  that  she  is  still  young,  and  a  few 
months,  or  even  a  year  or  two,  out  of  life  at  her  age 
means  no  great  loss." 

Mr.  Farnsworth  remained  on  the  piazza  while  Mr. 
Sheldon  went  in  to  say  good  night  to  Kitty.  She  had 
glanced  at  them  through  the  window  and  wondered 
at  the  earnestness  with  which  they  spoke.  Noticing 
a  troubled  look  on  Mr.  Farnsworth's  face,  she  sur 
mised  that  something  had  gone  wrong  at  the  office. 

As  Mr.  Sheldon  held  her  hand  for  a  moment  he 
asked,  - 

178 


THE  MYSTERIOUS  LETTER 

"Now  that  your  uncle  is  comfortably  settled,  and 
you  have  a  good  mount,  may  I  claim  your  promise  to 
go  riding  with  me  sometime?" 

She  hung  her  head  a  moment. 

"Yes,  Mr.  Sheldon,  thank  you  —  sometime." 

"May  I  trust  you  to  set  the  time?"  he  asked. 

"Yes,  I  think  you  may." 

A  few  minutes  later  Mr.  Sheldon  departed,  and  after 
seeing  him  to  the  carriage  Mr.  Farnsworth  strolled  out 
through  the  grounds  to  think  matters  over  alone. 

He  had  told  Kitty  jestingly  that  she  was  irresistible, 
and  there  proved  to  be  more  truth  in  the  remark  than 
he  had  supposed;  for  how  any  mortal  man  who  knew 
her  character  could  help  loving  her  was  beyond  his 
comprehension.  He  quailed  at  the  thought,  which  had 
disturbed  him  of  late,  that  eventually  someone  might 
discover  that  the  girl  was  not  his  niece,  and  thus  she 
would  be  placed  in  a  wrong  light  before  the  world. 

What  she  had  done  was  purely  out  of  the  goodness 
of  her  heart,  and  he  felt  that  she  would  not  have  been 
swerved  from  her  purpose  even  though  the  whole 
world  had  looked  askance  and  pointed  the  finger  of 
scorn  at  her.  But  what  could  he  do?  He  could  not 
drive  her  out  into  the  world  alone,  for  that  would  be  a 
poor  recompense  for  all  she  had  done.  And  he  would 
not,  even  if  he  could. 

Was  it  not  best,  after  all,  to  encourage  Mr.  Sheldon's 
suit,  and  console  himself  with  the  hope  that  she  would 

179 


CHAPTER  SIXTEEN 

be  with  him  for  at  least  a  year?  Sheldon  would  surely 
not  be  so  selfish  as  to  want  to  steal  her  away  at  once, 
and  even  if  he  was,  she  could  hold  him  off  for  a  year  or 
more.  But  what  beyond  that,  when  he  finally  came 
to  claim  her? 

"God  only  knows,"  he  thought,  "and  I  will  trust 
Him  to  show  me  some  way  out  of  it  all." 

Lost  in  thought  he  was  unconsciously  approaching 
the  front  of  the  house  when  he  was  awakened  from 
his  reveries  by  Kitty's  voice,  - 

"What  troubles  you,  uncle?  You've  been  pacing 
the  grounds  like  a  caged  lion  for  half  an  hour.  Aren't 
you  afraid  of  catching  cold  —  out  here  without  your 
hat?" 

"She's  always  thinking  of  my  health  and  comfort," 
he  thought. 

"Pardon  me,  Kitty,  for  being  so  thoughtless,"  he 
said  as  he  came  up  the  front  steps,  "I  have  just  been 
having  a  little  talk  with  myself,  and  was  not  aware 
that  I  had  been  out  so  long." 

"How  inconsiderate  of  you  to  talk  to  yourself  for  a 
whole  precious  half  hour,  when  I'm  just  dying  to  tell 
you  of  my  latest  crush,"  she  said,  thinking  to  divert 
his  mind. 

"Sheldon?"  he  asked. 

"No ;  guess  again." 

"Anyone  I  know?" 

"No." 

180 


THE  MYSTERIOUS  LETTER 

"Then  how  could  I  guess?" 

"He's  a  big,  tall,  handsome  blonde,  with  luscious 
blue  eyes  and  pink  complexion.  He  called  this  after 
noon,  and  is  coming  again  tomorrow." 

"And  if  he  steals  my  Kitty's  heart,"  he  said  jok 
ingly,  "I'll  play  the  hermit  and  lay  for  him  with  that 
old  musket,  if  it  takes  forty  years." 

"It'll  be  lots  of  fun,  making  love  to  him,  for  he  can't 
understand  a  word  of  English.  He's  our  new  milk 
man,  and  is  only  a  few  months  from  Sweden. 

"Has  anything  gone  wrong  at  the  office  today, 
uncle?"  she  asked. 

"No,  nothing.  That  is,  nothing  but  a  renewal  of 
the  talk  about  going  into  the  consolidation.  The  stock 
of  the  mines  has  advanced  considerably  of  late  and  the 
directors  talk  favorably  toward  the  deal.  They  say 
that  if  it  goes  through  they  will  want  me  to  take  the 
presidency  and  go  to  the  principal  office,  which  will  be 
in  New  York." 

"Would  you  go?"  she  asked.  He  finished  lighting 
his  cigar  and  as  he  threw  the  match  into  the  fire  — 

"No,  I  don't  see  how  I  can." 

"Then  you  would  be  thrown  out  of  a  position?" 

"No,  not  as  bad  as  that.  Mr.  Sheldon  assured  me 
that  I  would  be  well  taken  care  of  in  case  I  declined  to 
go  to  New  York." 

"But  you  would  have  to  accept  a  minor  position?" 

"Yes,  perhaps." 

181 


CHAPTER   SIXTEEN 

"If  the  consolidation  takes  place  would  Mr.  Sheldon 
have  as  great  influence  in  the  affairs  as  he  has  now?" 

"No ;  that's  the  difficulty ;  he  would  have  less  to  say 
about  the  management  of  the  new  corporation.  He 
would  probably  be  a  director,  possibly  the  treasurer. 
The  strange  part  of  it  is,  that  Farnsworth  &  Company 
are  promoting  the  new  combination  and  have  guar 
anteed  to  underwrite  the  stock." 

Kitty  gazed  meditatively  at  the  dying  embers  on  the 
hearth,  and  was  silent  for  some  moments. 

"Uncle,  how  much  of  the  stock  does  Mr.  Sheldon 
own?" 

"His  father  held  a  controlling  interest,  and  Mr. 
Sheldon  and  his  sister  still  hold  it." 

"Do  you  know  if  his  sister  favors  the  plan?" 

"She  is  abroad  and  the  matter  is  left  entirely  in 
Sheldon's  hands.  The  stock  is  still  held  by  the 
Sheldon  estate,  and  he  is  the  trustee." 

"I  believe  Mr.  Sheldon  is  very  fond  of  you,  uncle, 
and  if  he  really  knew  that  this  change  would  upset 
you,  I  don't  believe  he  would  consent  to  it.  Would  it 
make  any  great  difference  to  him  financially?" 

"It  would  give  him  more  paper  value  for  the  time 
being,  but  ultimately  I  think  he  would  receive  no  more 
in  dividends,  because  his  mines  are  the  best  paying  ones 
among  the  lot.  Some  of  the  others  are  not  paying 
any  dividends  at  present,  and  of  course  since  dividend 
paying  stock  is  to  be  issued  for  all  of  them  alike,  the 

182 


THE   MYSTERIOUS  LETTER 

paying  properties  would  be  encumbered  that  much 
more." 

She  walked  up  to  him  and  resting  her  arm  on  his 
shoulder,  she  said,  "I  wouldn't  worry  about  it,  uncle; 
I'm  sure  everything  will  come  out  all  right." 

She  bade  him  good  night,  and  as  she  was  leaving  the 
room  she  stopped  in  the  doorway  and  looked  back  as 
he  stood  looking  into  the  fire  — 

"Remember,  uncle,  what  I  told  you.  I'm  a  pretty 
good  prophet,  you  know." 

Next  morning  Kitty  went  into  town  with  Mr. 
Farnsworth  to  do  some  shopping,  and  called  up  Mr. 
Sheldon  by  telephone. 

"I'm  going  riding  this  afternoon  at  two  o'clock,  and 
if  you  should  happen  to  be  riding  out  in  the  vicinity  of 
the  Haunted  Caves  at  about  that  hour  perhaps  you 
might  join  me  at  the  gateway." 

Promptly  at  two  o'clock  Mr.  Sheldon  was  at  the 
gate,  and  in  a  few  moments  he  heard  the  clatter  of  a 
horse's  hoofs  on  the  driveway.  His  horse  pricked  up 
his  ears  and  whinnied,  and  immediately  there  came  the 
answering  call  from  up  the  road.  As  Kitty  rounded  a 
sharp  curve  and  came  in  view  of  the  gate  she  saw  Mr. 
Sheldon  in  the  saddle,  while  his  horse  pranced  about 
and  pawed  impatiently  at  the  ground.  When  the  two 
horses  met  they  exchanged  sniffs  of  recognition  and 
both  seemed  quite  contented. 

"You  see  our  horses  are  old  friends,"  he  said.     "If 

183 


CHAPTER  SIXTEEN 

you  were  only  as  glad  to  see  me  as  your  horse  is  to  see 
mine !" 

"And  if  I  were,  I  shouldn't  let  you  know  it,"  she 
said  coquettishly. 

They  cantered  off  down  the  road  and  during  the  two 
hours'  ride  she  showed  him  two  or  three  of  what  she 
called  her  "topographical  discoveries"  along  the  by 
ways,  and  chatted  about  her  horseback  explorations  in 
the  Adirondacks.  She  had  an  insatiable  curiosity,  she 
said,  for  hunting  out  and  investigating  every  remote 
cavern  in  the  country. 

As  he  was  about  to  leave  her  at  the  gateway  she  said, 
in  a  tone  of  sadness,  "I  shall  regret  to  leave  this  dear 
old  place." 

He  started  up  quickly  —  "Why,  what  do  you  mean? 
I  hope  you're  not  thinking  of  leaving  here." 

"I  hope  not;  but  my  uncle  tells  me  that  the  head 
offices  of  the  Company  are  likely  to  be  moved  to  New 
York,  —  and  his  future  seems  a  little  uncertain." 

As  his  horse  sauntered  along  toward  home  his 
thoughts  dwelt  upon  her  last  words. 

"  Uncertain^  eh  ?"  as  he  raised  his  head  quickly,  — 
"Well,  if  I  was  as  certain  of  winning  that  girl  as  he  is 
certain  to  hold  that  job  the  only  thing  lacking  would 
be  the  arrangement  of  the  minor  details !" 

He  arrived  at  the  office  just  as  Mr.  Farnsworth  was 
preparing  to  leave. 

"Mr.  Alexander,  I  wish  you'd  send  those  New  York 

184 


THE  MYSTERIOUS  LETTER 

people  a  message  before  you  go.  Tell  them  that  a 
majority  of  the  stock  in  The  Sheldon  Mining  Company 
has  refused  to  go  into  the  combine  for  the  time  being. 
We're  doing  well  enough,  and  I  guess  we  can  go  it 
alone  a  while  longer." 

When  Kitty  reached  home  she  found  a  note  that  had 
been  delivered  by  a  messenger  in  the  afternoon,  ad 
dressed  to  "Miss  Kate  Bellinger,  The  Haunted  Caves." 
The  note,  which  was  written  and  addressed  on  the 
typewriter,  was  unsigned.  It  ran  as  follows :  — 

Dear  Miss  Bellinger : 

You  are  carrying  on  a  highly  improper  relationship  with 
a  married  man.  You  had  better  take  a  friend's  advice  and 
discontinue  it  at  once.  Exposure  would  mean  ruination  to  you. 


185 


CHAPTER  XVII 
WHAT   THE   DEVIL   HATH   JOINED   TOGETHER 

When  Mr.  Farnsworth  came  home  in  the  evening 
after  Kitty  had  returned  from  riding  with  Mr.  Sheldon 
he  was  in  high  spirits.  He  found  Kitty  in  her  usual 
sunny  mood. 

"Kitty,"  he  said  as  they  sat  together  in  the  lounging 
room  after  dinner,  "that  man  Sheldon  has  simply  lost 
his  mind  over  you." 

"Is  that  so?  Then  it  wouldn't  be  safe  for  me  to  lose 
my  head  about  him,  for  then  we'd  be  a  pair  of  im 
beciles." 

"As  I  was  leaving  the  office  he  came  in  and  asked 
me  to  wire  Farnsworth  &  Company  that  the  dominant 
interests  in  The  Sheldon  Mining  Company  declined  to 
go  in  at  present,  and  I  believe  it  was  solely  on  your 
account  that  he  refused  to  go  into  the  consolidation." 

"Nonsense !  you  are  only  teasing  me  about  him." 

"Not  a  bit  of  it ;  he  as  much  as  admitted  it  to  me,  in 
saying  there  wasn't  money  enough  in  New  York  City 
to  control  that  mine  if  the  change  of  ownership  made 
it  necessary  for  us  to  leave  here ;  and  of  course  MS  in 
this  case  means  you.  In  talking  with  me  outside  last 
night  he  asked  permission  to  pay  attention  to  you; 
then  today  he  changes  his  mind  about  the  deal. 
Strange  coincidence,  don't  you  think?" 

186 


WHAT   THE   DEVIL   HATH   JOINED  TOGETHER 

"And  did  you  give  your  consent  to  his  calling  on 
me?"  she  asked  with  a  coquettish  glance. 

"I  couldn't  very  well  object ;  he's  a  fine  young  man, 
and  I  know  nothing  whatever  against  him,  except  that 
he  unwittingly  wants  to  rob  me  of  about  all  I  have  in 
the  world;  and  I  am  in  the  helpless  position  of  one 
who  can  offer  no  resistance." 

She  got  up  and  stood  by  his  side,  while  they  both 
looked  into  the  fireplace. 

"You  poor  dear  uncle,  —  I'm  sorry  to  cause  you 
any  worry,  in  addition  to  all  your  other  troubles.  It's 
awfully  good  of  you  to  tell  me  how  much  Mr.  Sheldon 
seems  to  think  of  me,  but  I  really  don't  care  for  Mr. 
Sheldon." 

"That's  one  of  the  things  that  trouble  me,  Kitty; 
I  know  that  you  are  denying  yourself  every  oppor 
tunity  of  forming  outside  associations,  and  you  really 
ought  not  to  do  it.  And  I  ought  not  to  permit  it." 

"There,  there,  now,  uncle,  —  don't  take  such  a 
dismal  view  of  things.  Your  comfort  and  happiness  are 
sufficient  for  my  pleasure.  I'm  still  young,  and  will 
have  plenty  of  time  to  think  of  these  matters  later." 

"Yes,  that's  true;  but  it  seems  selfish  of  me  to  —  " 

"Come,  now,"  she  interrupted,  as  she  got  up  and 
took  down  a  book  from  the  nearby  book  case,  — 

"I  have  a  new  book  for  you  to  read.  Let's  divert 
our  minds  from  our  own  troubles  and  be  like  other 
folks  —  take  up  the  consideration  of  other  people's 

187 


CHAPTER  SEVENTEEN 

affairs.  This  story  has  an  attractive  title;"  she  said 
handing  him  the  volume;  "suppose  we  take  turns 
reading  it  aloud." 

Mr.  Farnsworth  took  the  book  and  read  aloud  for 
awhile.  Then  Kitty  interrupted  him,  — 

"Now  let  me  read,  uncle ;  your  voice  is  beginning  to 
grow  husky." 

She  read  for  some  minutes,  when  suddenly  she 
stopped.  "There's  that  word  furtive  again !  I  do  wish 
someone  would  write  a  book  and  leave  out  all  the 
furtive  glances!" 

"And  they  might  also  omit  some  of  the  over- worked 
propinquities"  said  Mr.  Farnsworth.  Another  thing  I 
have  often  wondered,  is  why  so  many  authors  feel  it 
encumbent  upon  themselves  to  tell  the  reader  so  much 
about  how  the  soft  spring  breezes  wafted  gently  across 
the  meadows  and  kissed  the  bursting  buds  of  the  wild 
flowers,  or  how  the  slanting  rays  of  the  setting  sun 
cast  a  sheen  across  some  hilltop,  while  the  lengthening 
shadows  in  the  valley  below  proclaimed  the  knell  of 
another  parting  day.  —  " 

"Ha  ha,  uncle,  you  should  have  been  a  poet." 

"Yes,  that  sort  of  flowery  speech  does  very  well  for 
poetry,  but  in  reading  prose  romance  it's  vexatious  to 
be  held  up  at  the  beginning  of  every  chapter  while  the 
author  dilates  upon  extraneous  matters  just  to  fill  out 
the  required  number  of  pages  to  bring  it  to  the  conven 
tional  sized  volume." 

188 


WHAT  THE   DEVIL  HATH  JOINED  TOGETHER 

"I  suppose,"  said  Kitty,  "that  the  writers  figure  that 
the  reader  has  about  so  much  leisure  time  to  kill,  and 
they  want  to  give  him  plenty  of  weapons  to  kill  it 
with." 

"Yes,  but  if  you  were  going  across  the  continent, 
even  on  a  pleasure  trip,  you  wouldn't  want  to  be  side 
tracked  at  every  station  and  be  compelled  to  leave  the 
train  and  follow  the  conductor  butterfly-chasing  across 
the  country." 

"They  say  every  man  is  capable  of  writing  at  least 
one  book  —  why  don't  you  write  one,  uncle?  Oh, 
let's  write  one  together.  We'll  make  it  short  and  to 
the  point  —  I  know  it  would  be  a  great  success." 

"No,  Kitty,  I  fear  that  our  ideas  would  be  altogether 
too  far  in  advance  of  established  precedent  to  meet 
with  success.  People  don't  take  readily  to  innovations, 
and  we  might  preach  ourselves  blue  in  the  face  with 
out  getting  an  audience.  Reformers,  like  poets,  rarely 
live  to  enjoy  the  rewards  of  their  labors.  And  besides, 
I  wouldn't  know  what  to  write  about." 

"Why,  write  about  yourself  —  your  own  experiences 
would  be  just  full  of  human  interest.  Tell  how  you 
loved  and  lost ;  then  how  in  later  years  you  —  "  she 
halted.  "It  would  be  a  hint  to  some  of  the  wives  who 
hold  their  husbands  by  such  loose  strings." 

"But  the  trouble  is,  Kitty,  people  are  not  looking  so 
much  for  facts  or  pointed  morals  in  current  literature 
as  they  are  for  a  sprightly  yarn.  If  a  man  past  middle 

189 


CHAPTER  SEVENTEEN 

age  falls  in  love  a  second  time,  the  world  calls  him  a 
silly  old  fool  and  says  he  ought  to  know  better.  They 
have  no  sympathy  with  failure,  and  no  compassion 
for  the  disappointed  individual  who  might  have  done 
what  he  did  not  do. 

"In  writing  a  book  I  should  probably  drift  off  into  a 
one-sided  discussion  of  the  divorce  question,  and  my 
views  on  that  subject  would  arouse  the  antagonism  of 
some  of  the  church  people.  I  used  to  feel  as  many  do, 
that  the  divorce  laws  are  too  lax ;  but  in  the  light  of  my 
bitter  experience,  I  have  changed  my  views,  after  giv 
ing  the  matter  a  great  deal  of  serious  thought." 

"And  what  are  your  views,  uncle?" 

"Well,  in  the  first  place,  you  wouldn't  think  of  enter 
ing  into  a  business  contract  involving  even  a  few 
dollars,  without  weighing  the  considerations  carefully, 
and  perhaps  hiring  a  lawyer  to  draw  up  the  agreement, 
would  you?" 

"No,"  she  said. 

"Yet  two  people  will  rush  blindly  into  a  marriage 
contract  involving  the  happiness  of  a  lifetime,  with  no 
apparent  thought  of  what  the  results  are  likely  to  be. 
After  they  are  united,  both  are  apt  to  take  the  view, 
'I've  got  you  now,  and  you  can't  get  away  even  if  you 
want  to.'  The  'love,  honor,  and  obey'  part  of  the 
bargain  is  mutually  regarded  as  an  archaic  and  in 
operative  formality  which  either  one  may  disregard  at 
will.  Although  these  three  injunctions  are  made 

190 


WHAT  THE   DEVIL   HATH   JOINED  TOGETHER 

specific  conditions  of  the  marriage  pact,  either  party 
may  break  all  of  them  and  yet  hold  the  other  to  his  or 
her  part  of  the  agreement. 

"A  civil  contract,  perhaps  you  know,  may  be  nullified 
by  showing  a  lack  of  consideration, — or  to  use  a  com 
mercial  term,  value  received;  but  a  marital  contract, 
though  solemnized  only  by  a  justice  of  the  peace,  is 
forthwith  presumed  to  be  sealed  with  the  approval  of 
the  Omnipotent  God.  Then  according  to  the  Church's 
decree,  either  party  may  disregard  all  of  the  ante 
nuptial  agreements,  and  the  only  alternative  left  to 
the  other  side  is  to  use  forbearance,  or  retaliate  with 
vindictiveness.  The  enforced  operation  of  such  a  law 
defeats  its  own  purposes,  for  it  actually  provokes 
immorality  among  married  people." 

"What  an  obnoxious  rule!"  exclaimed  Kitty. 

"Yes.  When  a  woman  marries  a  man,"  he  con 
tinued,  "she  becomes  legally  possessed  of  about  one- 
third  or  one-half  of  his  property,  and  all  of  his  affec 
tions;  and  in  exchange  for  this  she  can  give  as  much 
or  as  little  as  she  pleases.  If  she  arrives  at  the  con 
clusion  that  she  is  too  pretty,  or  too  witty,  to  tie  herself 
down  to  the  humdrum  of  domestic  life,  her  husband 
may  occupy  his  time  in  working  and  sleeping,  and 
enjoy  the  blissful  consolation  of  knowing  that  he  has  a 
half  interest  in  all  he  makes  above  expenses. 

"I  may  appear  to  be  speaking  chiefly  from  the  man's 
side  of  the  question;  but  I  am  not  unmindful  of  the 

191 


CHAPTER  SEVENTEEN 

fact  that  the  same  argument  would  apply  with  equal 
force  to  the  other  side.  A  woman,  however,  is  by 
natural  instinct  cleverer  than  a  man  in  dealing  with 
the  forces  which  make  for  domestic  happiness.  It  is 
natural  that  she  should  be  so,  for  she  has  more  time 
and  aptitude  for  studying  them." 

"Uncle,  you  don't  take  a  very  cheerful  view  of 
matrimony.  Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  that  any  woman 
could  be  so  dishonorable?" 

"Yes,  such  cases  are  quite  common.  And  men  have 
done  even  much  worse.  In  addition  to  neglecting  their 
duties  they  are  often  utterly  selfish,  and  even  abusive. 
Sometimes  it's  the  fault  of  one,  and  sometimes  both 
are  to  blame." 

"Gracious !"  exclaimed  Kitty  —  "this  marriage  busi 
ness  seems  to  be  a  lottery  with  a  lot  of  blank  tickets 
in  it.  You  pay  the  price,  and  then  take  your  chances." 

"That's  true,  Kitty,  and  every  one  who  takes  a 
ticket  thinks  he's  going  to  get  the  capital  prize." 

They  were  silent  for  some  moments,  and  in  thinking 
over  what  he  had  said  Kitty  felt  the  force  of  the  tragedy 
that  lay  behind  his  words.  Finally  she  asked,  — 

"But  is  there  no  way  of  schooling  young  people  and 
showing  them  how  to  avoid  some  of  the  pitfalls  of 
married  life?  Take  your  own  case  for  instance, 
couldn't  it  be  used  to  serve  as  an  object  lesson  to 
others?" 

"No,  Kitty,  literature  and  everyday  life  are  filled 

192 


WHAT  THE   DEVIL  HATH   JOINED  TOGETHER 

with  striking  examples,  but  nobody  profits  by  them. 
If  millions  of  people  all  over  the  world  continue  to 
speculate  in  stocks  and  commodities  on  narrow  margins 
regardless  of  the  fact  that  they  all  lose  sooner  or  later, 
why  shouldn't  they  speculate  in  marriage,  when  there 
is  perhaps  one  chance  in  five  of  making  a  lucky  strike? 
Another  thing,  marriage  is  oftentimes  the  outgrowth 
of  love,  —  either  mutual  or  one-sided  —  and  everyone 
is  attacked  sooner  or  later  by  that  malady  in  one  form 
or  another." 

"Oftentimes?  did  you  say,  uncle?  Don't  you  mean 
always?" 

"No;  there's  a  vast  difference  between  love  and 
infatuation." 

"But,"  inquired  Kitty,  "why  does  the  church  make 
codes  governing  the  marriage  relationship?  It  doesn't 
interfere  with  the  filial  duties  of  father  and  daughter, 
or  the  relationship  of  brother  and  sister,  does  it?" 

"I  presume,"  he  replied,  "that  they  base  their 
authority  on  the  Biblical  passage,  'What  therefore 
God  hath  joined  together,  let  not  man  put  asunder.' 
But  it  doesn't  say,  'what  the  devil  hath  joined  together 
shall  not  be  put  asunder.'  In  all  my  thirty  years  or 
more  of  church-going  I  have  never  heard  any  convinc 
ing  proof  that  the  all-wise  God  ever  had  anything  to  do 
with  joining  two  incompatible  persons  together.  Such 
a  procedure  would  be  contrary  to  the  accepted  idea  of 
His  goodness;  it  is  contrary  to  religious  ethics,  The 

193 


CHAPTER  SEVENTEEN 

mere  fact  that  the  minister  or  justice  of  the  peace  pro 
nounces  the  formula  does  not  make  it  conclusive  that 
God  sanctions  it.  No  infelicitous  state  of  matrimony 
can  be  holy.  Such  a  union  profanes  the  definition  of 
the  word ;  it  is  blasphemous  to  call  it  holy." 

"Then  the  church  takes  it  for  granted  that  all  mar 
riages  are  hallowed?"  she  asked. 

"Yes;  and  the  presumption  is  no  more  supportable 
than  it  would  be  to  assume  that  every  other  civil  agree 
ment  between  individuals  is  hallowed.  People  often 
drive  sharp  bargains  in  marriage  the  same  as  in  busi 
ness.  Social  ambitions  and  pecuniary  avarice  are 
frequently  the  chief  impelling  motives. 

"Viewing  the  marriage  vows  from  the  standpoint  of 
common  sense,  they  are  merely  a  civil  compact,  which, 
like  any  other  agreement  between  mortal  beings  may 
be  blessed  by  the  Lord  with  happy  results,  or  sanctioned 
by  the  devil  with  an  infelicitous  outcome,  according  to 
the  motives  and  subsequent  acts  of  the  participants." 

Kitty  rose  from  the  rug.  —  "This  marriage  business 
seems  to  be  easier  to  get  into  than  it  is  to  get  out  of. 

"Now  promise  me,  uncle,  that  you  won't  get  the 
blues  again,"  she  said  a  little  later  as  she  bade  him 
good  night. 

"No  one  could  be  blue  for  very  long  if  you  were 
about,"  he  said  cheerfully. 

"What  a  dear  man  he  is!  How  any  woman  with 
an  ounce  of  warm  blood  in  her  veins  could  help  adoring 

194 


WHAT   THE    DEVIL   HATH   JOINED   TOGETHER 

him  is  beyond  me,"  she  thought  as  she  ascended  the 
stairs. 

When  Kitty  went  to  her  room  that  night  she  did  not 
go  immediately  to  bed.  She  closed  the  door  and 
vented  her  pent-up  emotions  in  a  good  long  cry.  When 
she  got  up  and  viewed  her  swollen  eyes  and  lips  in  the 
mirror,  her  anger  dried  her  tears.  She  had  thought  of 
that  letter  all  through  the  evening,  and  several  times 
she  had  difficulty  in  stifling  her  feelings.  Who  could 
have  sent  it?  She  had  met  several  people  in  the 
town,  mostly  church-goers  at  the  little  church  where 
they  attended  services  several  times,  and  the  pastor 
had  called  once  since  they  moved.  All  those  she  knew 
seemed  cordial,  and  nobody  appeared  to  question  the 
propriety  of  her  home  life.  Yet  that  anonymous  letter 
was  delivered  by  messenger,  and  evidently  someone  in 
the  town  knew  the  conditions  under  which  she  was 
living.  Furthermore,  it  must  be  an  interested  person. 

"Could  it  be  Mr.  Sheldon?"  she  queried.  "No,"  she 
reasoned,  it  could  not  have  come  from  him,  for  he 
had  been  particularly  kind  and  attentive  that  very 
afternoon. 

She  finally  concluded  that  the  young  man  she  had 
frightened  out  of  town  must  have  returned.  If  so,  of 
course  Mr.  Farnsworth's  family  would  soon  know. 
"Then  what?"  she  asked  herself. 

However,  she  had  committed  no  wrong  and  was 
afraid  of  no  one  —  not  even  his  wife  and  son.  Indeed, 

195 


CHAPTER  SEVENTEEN 

she  rather  hoped  that  Mrs.  Farnsworth  would  come 
out,  just  to  see  what  would  happen,  and  have  things 
over  with.  The  state  of  uncertainty  was  no  less  dis 
quieting  than  the  thought  of  facing  the  wife  herself. 
She  felt  sorry  for  Mr.  Farnsworth,  but  felt  sure  that 
there  would  be  no  mincing  of  words  on  his  part.  She 
was  willing  to  take  the  chances  of  exposure  and  un 
favorable  comment  in  the  East,  for  there  was  no  one 
there  that  she  cared  particularly  for.  Mr.  Farnsworth's 
position  was  secure,  for  Mr.  Sheldon  had  been  taken 
into  confidence  about  his  home  affairs;  and  if  it  be 
came  necessary  they  could  easily  explain  how  she 
came  to  be  passed  off  as  his  niece.  Mr.  Sheldon  could 
not  doubt  them.  She  felt  absolutely  secure  in  her 
position,  for  it  was  one  of  upright  motives. 

Before  retiring  she  took  out  the  letter  again  and 
scrutinized  it  long  and  carefully.  Then  she  held  a 
lighted  match  and  the  paper  together  out  at  arm's 
length  until  the  flames  consumed  the  letter  down  so 
close  to  her  fingers  that  she  was  obliged  to  drop  it  into 
the  grate. 

"There!"  she  said,  "that's  the  last  of  you  —  you 
vile  implement  of  Satan!  I  wish  I  knew  what  busy 
body  sent  you  here !" 

And  turning  out  the  light  she  was  soon  fast  asleep. 

Early  next  morning  Mr.  Farnsworth  was  aroused  by 
the  housekeeper  who  reported  that  the  old  hermit  had 
had  a  very  bad  turn  in  the  night  and  now  wished  to  see 

196 


WHAT  THE   DEVIL  HATH   JOINED  TOGETHER 

him.  Dressing  hurriedly  he  went  to  the  hermit's  room, 
where  he  found  the  old  man  breathing  laboriously.  A 
doctor  had  already  been  summoned,  and  the  patient 
managed  to  stammer  out  that  he  wanted  a  lawyer ;  so 
one  was  immediately  sent  for.  When  he  arrived  the 
doctor  and  Kitty  were  both  in  the  room.  By  signs 
and  words  the  sick  man  conveyed  the  information  that 
something  was  buried  under  a  rock  in  the  cave. 
Pointing  to  Kitty  he  said,  "All  to  her.  House  to  her  — 
all  to  her.  —  My  angel!"  Then  he  closed  his  eyes. 

The  lawyer  drew  up  a  will,  bequeathing  all  the 
property,  both  real  and  personal,  to  Kitty,  and  the 
doctor  revived  the  patient  by  a  hypodermic  injection 
while  the  will  was  read  to  him.  He  nodded  his  head; 
and  the  doctor  supported  his  arm  while  he  scrawled  his 
name  to  the  paper.  Mr.  Farnsworth  came  into  the 
room  as  he  was  signing  the  document,  and  as  the 
old  man  finished  he  dropped  the  pen,  looked  up  at  him 
and  smiled  faintly.  Then  turning  his  face  toward 
Kitty,  who  was  kneeling  at  the  bedside  with  her  face 
buried  in  the  covers,  he  mustered  his  strength  and 
rested  his  hand  on  her  head.  —  "My  angel  —  God 
bless  you!"  which  were  his  last  words. 

In  the  farthest  cave  they  found  a  loose  flat  stone 
under  the  little  bed,  and  in  a  hole  underneath  was  a 
package  containing  about  eleven  thousand  dollars, 
mostly  in  ten  and  twenty-dollar  bills. 


197 


CHAPTER  XVIII 
THE  FRUITS  OF  INFELICITY 

When  Mr.  Farnsworth  reached  his  office  he  found 
an  anonymous  typewritten  letter,  addressed  to  him 
under  his  assumed  name,  saying  that  a  man  of  his  age 
ought  to  be  ashamed  of  himself  "for  acting  so  dis 
gracefully  with  a  young  girl  and  preventing  her  from 
ever  entering  society  or  making  a  future  for  herself. 
You  are  perpetrating  a  wicked  crime,"  it  went  on  to 
say;  "and  when  she  comes  to  her  senses  she  will  curse 
you!" 

This  invidious  accusation  seemed  like  a  malicious 
stab  from  out  of  the  dark,  and  he  was  greatly  puzzled 
by  it.  "Just  as  I  feared,"  he  mused.  "I've  been 
afraid  all  along  that  happiness  was  coming  too  fast, 
and  that  something  was  going  to  happen." 

His  first  impulse  was  to  say  nothing  about  it  in  a 
direct  way  to  Kitty,  for  it  would  doubtless  make  her 
miserable;  but  the  more  he  thought  over  it  the  more 
he  was  convinced  that  she  ought  to  be  made  fully 
acquainted  with  the  peril  that  threatened  her  good 
name,  and  he  finally  decided  to  lay  the  letter  before 
her.  He  sent  for  a  carriage  and  went  directly  home. 
Handing  the  note  to  Kitty,  he  watched  her  while  she 
read  it.  To  his  complete  amazement,  she  looked  up 
smilingly.  — 

198 


THE  FRUITS  OF   INFELICITY 

"I,  too,  received  one  of  these,  but  didn't  think  it  of 
enough  importance  to  bother  you  with  it.  Whoever 
it  is,"  she  continued,  "they  seem  to  be  afraid  to  un 
cover  their  identity.  It  is  the  act  of  a  coward,  and  I 
am  not  afraid  of  cowards." 

Nevertheless  the  matter  weighed  heavily  upon  Mr. 
Farnsworth's  mind  and  caused  him  many  wakeful 
nights.  He  could  think  of  no  human  being  whose 
feelings  or  fortune  he  had  wantonly  injured,  and  the 
author  of  these  letters  was  a  complete  mystery.  Some 
Evil  Genius  appeared  to  be  persecuting  him.  He 
ruminated  back  over  the  past  years.  In  the  marriage 
lottery  he  had  drawn  an  incompatible  mate;  then  his 
years  of  disappointing  home  life  culminated  in  his 
financial  reverses  just  before  the  tide  of  panic  began 
to  recede.  All  things,  both  then  and  now,  seemed  to 
work  harmoniously  together  for  his  undoing. 

In  these  reflections  he  was  again  reminded  that  al 
though  he  had  a  legal  wife,  he  appeared  to  be  neither 
married  nor  single.  The  memory  of  his  wife  had  be 
come  repulsive  to  him ;  the  remembrance  of  her 
beauty  a  mockery. 

"Yet,"  he  soliloquised,  "people  are  more  to  be  pitied 
than  blamed  for  hereditary  incapacity.  How  often  it 
happens  that  persons  suddenly  raised  from  their  heredi 
tary  environments  are  made  restless  in  an  atmosphere 
to  which  they  are  unaccustomed  by  birth  or  associa 
tion  !  In  their  eagerness  to  attain  greater  heights  and 

199 


CHAPTER  EIGHTEEN 

conquer  new  worlds  they  often  lose  sight  of  their  in 
herent  deficiencies.  Their  minds  are  so  occupied  with 
growing  aspirations  that  they  become  oblivious  to  the 
little  thoughts  and  acts  that  enter  so  largely  into  the 
makeup  of  a  contented  life." 

Ever  since  the  birth  of  his  son  the  shy  goddess  of 
happiness  seemed  to  dance  tantalizingly  about  him, 
always  just  out  of  his  reach.  She  had  tormented  him 
at  first  with  a  taste  of  connubial  bliss,  —  enough  to 
stimulate  his  appetite  for  more,  —  then  the  cup  of 
happiness  had  been  snatched  away.  It  would  have 
been  far  better  had  he  never  sipped  its  contents. 

"For  certain  persons  this  love  delirium  may  be  a 
thrilling  experience ;  but  for  me  it  has  been  a  poison 
ous  drug.  Every  minute  of  sweetness  I've  found  in  it 
has  been  penalized  by  hours  of  bitterness,  and  it  would 
seem  sheer  madness  for  me  now  to  anticipate  anything 
else,"  he  mused. 

But  what  was  to  be  done?  —  What  could  be  done? 
That  present  arrangements  must  be  terminated  was  a 
foregone  conclusion;  for  already  they  were  being 
harrassed  by  these  threatening  letters,  and  exposure 
would  mean  ruin  for  Kitty;  and,  what  was  of  much 
less  consequence,  perhaps  the  loss  of  his  position. 

"Ah,  it  was  a  fatal  error  I  made  in  giving  way  to  a 
brainless  impulse  and  cutting  myself  off  from  home 
and  friends,  and  any  possibility  of  future  success  or 
happiness.  False  pride!  foolish  vanity!  This  selfish 

200 


THE  FRUITS  OF  INFELICITY 

suicidal  weakness  in  letting  the  heart  impulses  run 
away  with  the  head,  and  imagining  that  we  are  brought 
into  existence  for  no  other  purpose  than  to  pamper  our 
own  appetites  for  domestic  bliss,  instead  of  paying  more 
attention  to  the  duties  we  owe  to  others  in  life ! 

"Reared  in  luxury,  with  every  advantage,  what 
little  good  I  have  accomplished  has  cost  me  no  effort 
or  privation ;  and  when  put  to  the  initial  test  of  moral 
strength  and  character  I  quailed  and  ran  away  like  a 
cowardly  soldier  before  the  enemy,  instead  of  meeting 
the  obstacles  like  a  man !  And  for  nothing  else  than  to 
be  rid  of  a  vain-glorious,  aspiring  woman,  whose  very 
weakness  should  have  taught  me  a  lesson  in  fortitude 
and  determination.  But  instead  of  profiting  by  the  ex 
ample  I  topple  over  like  a  dead  reed  in  a  spring  breeze. 

"How  easily  I  might  have  rehabilitated  myself  and 
rounded  out  a  life  of  usefulness,  instead  of  slinking 
away  and  spending  my  best  days  in  morbid  meditation 
over  an  ill-starred  marriage !  A  wanton  and  shameful 
waste  of  opportunities!  This  singleness  of  purpose  in 
hunting  for  hymeneal  joy  is  a  narrow-gauge  existence 
unbefitting  a  man  of  sound  judgment.  There  are 
other  higher  and  nobler  motives  in  life  that  demand  a 
good  share  of  one's  attention.  Instead  of  completing 
a  brilliant  career,  filled  with  deeds  of  human  kindness, 
and  dying  respected  and  lamented  by  all,  it  falls  to  my 
unhappy  lot  to  cut  short  a  life  of  promise,  and  perhaps 
in  the  end  fill  a  dishonored  grave !" 

201 


CHAPTER  EIGHTEEN 

He  ultimately  decided  that  the  only  course  was  to 
give  up  the  residence  in  the  country  and  take  rooms  at 
the  hotel.  Kitty  now  seemed  more  responsive  to 
Sheldon's  attentions,  which  had  become  more  marked 
of  late.  He  had  dined  with  them  frequently,  and  she 
often  spent  the  afternoon  riding  horseback  with  him. 
The  question  was  how  to  explain  to  him  the  change  in 
the  domestic  arrangements. 

While  thinking  the  matter  over  in  his  office  one 
afternoon  he  received  a  personal  letter,  and  on  glanc 
ing  at  the  superscription  he  almost  started  from  his 
chair.  It  was  unmistakably  his  wife's  handwriting! 
and  the  envelope  was  postmarked  New  York.  The 
note,  which  contained  no  complimentary  address, 
read, — 

I  have  discovered  all ;  but  I  am  willing  to  take  you  back  if 
you  will  give  up  that  woman.  Am  coming  to  see  you  —  will 
leave  here  tomorrow. 

He  turned  immediately  to  his  desk  and  wrote  a 
telegram  to  Tom. 


202 


CHAPTER  XIX 
MRS.  FARNSWORTH'S  HUMILIATION 

As  Mr.  Farnsworth  sat  smoking  in  his  office  after 
luncheon  the  next  afternoon,  his  private  secretary 
announced  a  lady  caller  from  New  York.  "She  re 
fused  to  give  her  name,  but  said  you  were  expecting 
her.  She's  heavily  veiled,  and  I  couldn't  see  her 
features." 

"Show  her  in." 

"Willing  to  take  me  back,  is  she?"  he  mused  as  he 
re-read  his  wife's  note  while  he  stood  waiting  for  her 
to  appear.  The  door  opened  and  his  wife  stood  before 
him. 

"What  brings  you  away  out  here,  Margaret?"  he 
asked,  after  greeting  her  in  a  formal  manner.  He 
offered  her  a  chair  and  sat  down  facing  her.  Without 
answering,  she  removed  her  veil  and  stared  into  his 
calm,  expressionless  face. 

"Oh,  Dalney,  I'm  so  miserable  and  lonely,"  she 
said  plaintively,  and  bowing  her  head  she  pressed  her 
handkerchief  to  her  eyes. 

"Up  to  her  old  tricks  again!"  he  thought  to  himself. 

"Since  you  went  away  I  have  no  friends  —  nobody 
ever  comes  to  see  me  —  and  since  that  awful  lie  ap 
peared  in  the  papers  all  your  friends  just  hate  me,  and 
say  the  most  awful  things  about  me.  I  can't  endure 

203 


CHAPTER   NINETEEN 

it,  Dalney,  I  can't  —  I  just  can't  —  "  she  cried  pite- 
ously.  "If  you  would  only  come  back  and  disprove 
these  false  reports!  Then  people  would  see  how 
wrongly  I've  been  accused.  Oh,  Dalney,  Dalney,  it's 
awful!"  she  sobbed.  "Every  time  I  go  out  onto  the 
street  I  feel  that  everyone  is  staring  at  me  and  accusing 
me  of  killing  my  husband.  This  has  haunted  me  until 
I  almost  feel  that  I  am  guilty." 

She  looked  up  at  him  through  her  tears.     "Please  - 
oh,  please  don't  sit  there  and  look  at  me  that  way  — 
you  used  to  love  me  and  pet  me  when  I  was  unhappy, 
and  I  did  so  love  to  have  you  kiss  away  my  tears  — 
and  now  you  just  sit  and  stare   at  me  —  cold  and 
unsympathetic !" 

He  was  so  busy  with  his  own  thoughts,  wondering  at 
her  marvelous  acting  and  trying  to  think  what  he 
should  say,  that  he  scarcely  heard  her  words,  uttered 
amid  sobs  and  wailing.  At  length  she  bent  over  onto 
the  large  flat-top  desk  at  her  side,  and  burying  her  face 
she  moaned,  — 

"Oh,  oh,  even  he  suspects  me!  and  now  he  has 
ceased  entirely  to  love  me !" 

She  could  not  have  planned  an  aspect  that  would 
have  proved  less  appealing  to  his  sympathies,  for  her 
position  instantly  recalled  to  his  mind  that  awful  night 
of  agony  when  he  had  buried  his  face  in  his  folded 
arms  on  the  library  table.  It  was  the  scene  that  im 
pelled  him  to  make  the  fatal  mistake  of  his  life,  and 

204 


MRS.   FARNSWORTH'S  HUMILIATION 

every  detail  of  it  was  seared  into  his  memory.  The 
remembrance  of  her  contemptuous,  unfeeling  gaze 
when  he  raised  his  head  and  looked  appealingly  at  her 
across  the  table  now  embittered  him  and  chilled  his 
blood.  He  remembered,  too,  how  time  and  again  she 
had  played  upon  his  sympathy  in  previous  years;  and 
from  her  manner  and  words  he  was  convinced  that  her 
present  emotions  were  due  to  wounded  pride  rather 
than  to  any  real  change  of  heart.  He  felt  toward  her 
as  he  might  feel  toward  some  mischievous  child  crying 
over  an  accidentally  self-inflicted  punishment. 

The  last  spark  of  his  once  unconquerable  love  for  her 
had  been  utterly  stifled  and  killed,  and  what  pity  he 
felt  was  unattended  by  the  remotest  desire  to  touch  her 
or  go  near  her.  Her  beauty  and  her  ever-ready  foun 
tain  of  tears  had  lost  their  power  to  move  him. 

"Margaret,"  he  said  gently,  "this  is  no  time  or  place 
for  tears  and  theatricals.  I  gave  you  your  choice  of 
two  alternatives,  and  if  you  are  dissatisfied  with  the 
one  you  chose,  it  is  now  too  late  to  turn  back.  When 
I  told  you  I  would  give  you  cause  for  divorce  I  couldn't 
foresee  my  present  conditions,  but  I  kept  my  promise, 
even  if  with  unexpected  results." 

She  straightened  up  quickly  in  her  chair  and  looked 
at  him,  astounded  at  the  ineffectualness  of  her  well- 
planned  scene.  Seeing  that  her  artifice  had  failed 
completely,  she  quickly  changed  her  attitude. 

"Then  you  admit  that  you  are  living  here  with  that 

205 


CHAPTER  NINETEEN 

woman!  You  had  this  all  nicely  planned  out  in  ad 
vance  !  I  see  it  now.  That's  why  you  tried  to  trap  me 
into  getting  a  divorce !" 

"I  neither  admit  nor  deny  anything,  except  that  you 
have  ample  cause  for  divorce.  Put  it  on  the  grounds 
of  desertion,  if  you  like. 

"You  can  never  be  happy  in  New  York  —  outside  of 
your  social  caste  —  and  I  suggest  that  you  go  abroad 
for  a  year ;  then  return  and  get  your  divorce  privately 
before  some  properly  constituted  referee,  so  as  to  give 
yourself  no  undue  notoriety  that  would  lessen  your 
chances  of  marrying  again.  Let  the  hearing  be  private 
and  be  careful  that  you  make  no  false  accusations 
against  an  innocent  girl.  It  might  react  on  you,"  he 
said,  with  a  look  that  was  more  threatening  than  his 
words. 

"Innocent  girl !"  she  exclaimed,  her  eyes  now  ablaze 
with  indignation.  "How  can  you  be  so  brazen  as  to 
sit  there  and  defend  that  adventuress?  I've  had  de 
tectives  watching  you  both,  and  I've  known  of  you* 
actions  for  weeks.  You  thought  yourself  very  clever, 
but  —  " 

He  sprang  to  his  feet  and  interrupted  her  speech. 

"My  God  I  then  it  was  you  that  invented  those 
damnable,  cowardly  anonymous  missives,  was  it? 
You  scorned  me  and  drove  me  away  from  home  and 
friends  —  distracted,  mad  —  with  your  haughty  airs  of 
self-sufficiency ;  and  not  content  with  that,  you  perse- 

206 


MRS.   FARNSWORTH'S  HUMILIATION 

cute  me  with  detectives  and  anonymous  letters,  just 
when  I  am  extricating  myself  from  the  jaws  of  an 
earthly  hell,  and  trying  to  live  down  the  memories  of  a 
horrible  eighteen-year  dream." 

"Yes,"  she  snapped,  "and  I  can  tell  you  your  dream 
isn't  over  yet.  I'll  go  back  and  close  up  that  banking 
business,  and  expose  you  and  that  woman,  both  here 
and  in  New  York.  I'll  show  your  friends  what  you 
are  —  " 

"Wait!  wait!  Not  so  loud,  nor  so  fast.  You  will 
do  nothing  of  the  kind.  By  what  authority,  may  I  ask, 
do  you  propose  to  adopt  such  drastic  measures  with 
my  business  affairs?" 

"Authority!  your  business!  The  business  belongs 
to  me.  My  money  saved  it,  and  I  have  a  lot  of  funds 
invested  in  it  now.  I  shall  do  as  I  please  with  it." 

Appalled  at  her  audacity  and  revengefulness,  he  sat 
for  some  moments  looking  at  her  in  silence.  He  re 
membered  having  recently  faced  imminent  death  with 
scarcely  a  tremor;  but  the  thought  of  her  wantonly 
blighting  the  life  of  this  young  and  innocent  girl  — 
who  had  done  so  much  for  him  —  stirred  him  into  a 
mental  frenzy.  "This  woman  is  dangerous;  she 
must  be  silenced  at  any  cost,"  he  said  to  himself  in 
sheer  desperation. 

There  was  but  one  way  to  quell  her,  and  though 
under  ordinary  circumstances  his  conscience  would 
have  rebelled  at  the  thought  of  resorting  to  such  a 

207 


CHAPTER  NINETEEN 

means,  here  was  an  unbridled  terror  that  would  yield 
only  to  the  most  violent  treatment. 

"Margaret,"  he  said  sternly,  "if  you  attempt  to  in 
terfere  with  that  business,  further  than  to  draw  out 
what  you  actually  put  into  it,  I  shall  return  to  New 
York  and  take  full  charge  of  it  myself;  and  in  that 
case,  you  can't  collect  a  dollar  that  you  have  invested 
in  it.  While  I  am  alive,  I  am  the  lawful  head  and 
owner  of  that  business,  and  a  woman  cannot  sue  her 
husband  for  —  " 

"Oh,  I  see,"  she  interrupted  spitefully;  "then  you 
intended  to  cheat  me  out  of  what  you  asked  me  to  lend 
you!" 

"I  had  no  such  intentions;  nor  do  I  intend  now  to 
let  you  cheat  me  or  ruin  an  innocent  girl,  as  you  pro 
pose  to  do,"  he  said  hotly.  "And  be  careful  how  you 
use  your  threats  of  exposure.  You  might  stir  up 
something  that  will  recoil  on  you,"  he  said  as  he 
thrust  out  his  arm  and  pointed  his  finger  warningly  at 
her. 

"You  are  at  this  moment  almost  within  earshot  of 
the  scene  of  your  father's  double  crime,  and  one  of  the 
victims  of  his  robbery  has  until  recently  been  living 
here  under  the  same  roof  with  me,  helpless  and  de 
mented  in  his  old  age  from  a  murderous  blow  your 
father  struck  him  on  the  head." 

Her  face  blanched  and  she  shrank  back,  horror 
stricken.  "He's  found  it  out !  And  my  father  was  also 

208 


MRS.  FARffSWORTH'S  HUMILIATION 

a  robber!  that  money  was  perhaps  stolen,  and  I'll 
have  to  give  it  all  back!"  flashed  across  her  mind. 

Observing  the  instant  effect  of  his  counter-threat, 
he  continued,  — 

"The  banking  business  I  intend  shall  go  to  Tom; 
and  in  the  settlement,  when  you  get  your  divorce,  you 
will  take  your  own  money  back,  and  only  as  much 
more  as  the  law  allows  you  under  such  an  arrange 
ment  —  no  more.  Remember  that.  And  also  bear 
this  in  mind:  the  less  advertising  the  better  for  you. 
Don't  let  your  tender  solicitude  for  me  trouble  you  any. 
Think  only  of  yourself,  as  you've  always  done.  I'm 
well  provided  for  here  in  every  way.  It  may  comfort 
you  to  know  that,  for  the  first  time  in  years,  I'm 
threatened  even  with  happiness." 

She  fairly  gnashed  her  teeth  under  this  sarcastic 
parry;  yet  she  was  disarmed,  absolutely  helpless. 

Any  thought  of  retaliation  on  her  part  was  completely 
forestalled  by  his  knowledge  of  her  father's  inquities 
and  her  fear  of  having  to  return  the  money.  These 
considerations  seemed  to  rise  up  like  a  great  barrier 
before  her  vision,  and  she  shuddered  at  the  thought  of 
being  so  near  the  scene  of  his  awful  crime.  She  felt 
an  irresistible  impulse  to  flee  from  town  by  the  next 
train,  fearing  they  might  even  arrest  her;  and  she 
wished  she  might  never  see  or  hear  of  the  place  again. 
Her  only  alternative  appeared  to  be  to  accept  the 
inevitable,  —  to  get  a  divorce  as  quietly  as  possible. 

209 


CHAPTER  NINETEEN 

She  was  so  unstrung  that  when  she  attempted  to  rise  to 
her  feet  she  sank  back  into  her  chair. 

"Before  we  finally  part,  let  me  assure  you,  Margaret," 
he  said  more  kindly,  "that  you  labor  under  a  wrong 
impression  of  the  girl.  She  is  entirely  guiltless.  She 
was  employed  by  Tom  to  look  for  me,  and  had  she 
found  me  ten  minutes  later  than  she  did  you  would 
never  have  seen  me  alive.  She  has  never  wronged 
you  by  word  or  act.  After  reading  that  newspaper 
story  about  you,  and  considering  the  corroborative 
circumstances  I  believed  every  word  of  it.  It  was  she 
who  brought  me  the  assurance  that  it  was  groundless, 
and  pleaded  with  me  to  go  back  to  you.  But  we  are 
clearly  unsuited  to  each  other,  and  it  is  better  that  we 
separate  and  seek  happiness  apart.  You  are  still 
young  and  beautiful;  there  may  yet  be  much  in  store 
for  you." 

"No,  I  shall  never  be  happy  again,"  she  said  mourn 
fully. 

"Later  you  will  think  differently.  No  man  could  be 
indifferent  to  your  charms,  and  any  foreign  nobleman 
might  well  be  proud  of  your  bearing." 

A  new  light  came  into  her  eyes,  and  she  looked  up 
smilingly. 

"Do  you  really  think  so?" 

"I  am  positive  of  it." 

"Then  I'm  not  faded  or  less  attractive  than  I  used 
to  be?" 

210 


MRS.  FARNSWORTH'S  HUMILIATION 

"Not  a  bit,"  he  said  truthfully.  "You  look  almost 
as  young  and  attractive  as  you  did  the  day  you  gradu 
ated  from  Miss  Hilton's,  when  I  thought  you  the  most 
charming  creature  in  the  world." 

The  reference  to  her  girlhood  days  suddenly  brought 
to  mind  what  Tom  had  told  her  about  her  father.  She 
became  agitated,  and  looked  at  her  watch.  He 
rightly  construed  this  as  indicating  her  anxiety  to  be 
off  and  immediately  rang  for  his  secretary. 

"Order  a  carriage  for  this  lady;  she  will  take  the 
four  o'clock  train  for  the  East."  Then  consulting  his 
watch,  he  turned  to  her  — 

"Good-by,  Margaret;  your  train  goes  in  twenty 
minutes." 


211 


CHAPTER  XX 
THINGS  LOOK  SUSPICIOUS  TO  TOM 

Two  days  later  Tom  opened  the  private  office  door 
and  rushed  into  his  father's  arms. 

"Father !  Father !     Is  it  really  you?" 

"Yes,  my  boy,"  he  said  in  a  choking  voice,  as  he 
patted  Tom  on  the  back. 

When  they  were  seated  Tom  asked,  "Father,  why 
didn't  you  send  me  word  that  you  were  alive  and 
well?" 

"Because,  Tom,  I  didn't  wish  your  mother  to  know 
of  my  whereabouts,  and  while  I  wanted  very  much  to 
relieve  your  own  anxiety,  yet  I  did  not  wish  to  burden 
you  with  the  charge  of  keeping  such  a  secret  from 
your  mother  while  you  were  under  the  same  roof  with 
her.  But  when  I  found  she  had  discovered  me  I  wired 
you  at  once  to  come." 

"Discovered  you!  When  and  how  did  she  discover 
you?" 

He  related  briefly  the  interview  with  Mrs.  Farns- 
worth,  and  told  the  story  of  his  previous  struggles,  but 
said  nothing  of  his  suicidal  intent,  further  than  to  say 
that  he  was  at  his  last  extremity  when  Kitty  found  him. 

Tom  stared  at  him  aghast. 

"And  Kitty  —  where  is  she?"  he  inquired  at  length. 

"She  is  with  me  —  at  home." 

212 


THINGS  LOOK  SUSPICIOUS  TO  TOM 

"How  is  her  mind?" 

They  both  laughed.  He  explained  how  Kitty  came 
to  nickname  him  uncle,  and  he  had  since  passed  as  her 
uncle  in  fact.  He  also  explained  that  although  he  had 
never  uttered  a  word  against  the  consolidation,  Mr. 
Sheldon  had  declined  to  go  in  on  Kitty's  account,  for 
he  feared  it  would  necessitate  her  moving  away. 

Mr.  Farnsworth  despatched  a  messenger  with  a  note 
to  Kitty  asking  her  to  have  the  coachman  come  in  at 
two  o'clock;  as  he  was  going  to  bring  out  a  young 
man  who  would  remain  over  night. 

Kitty  was  startled  almost  out  of  her  senses  when  she 
was  unexpectedly  brought  face  to  face  with  Tom,  but 
she  quickly  recovered  her  composure  and  greeted  him 
with  reserved  cordiality.  Remembering  Sid's  experi 
ence,  he  almost  burst  out  laughing  the  instant  he  faced 
her;  and  when  he  remarked  that  he  was  pleased  to 
note  that  she  had  fully  recovered  her  mental  equilib 
rium,  they  both  laughed  heartily. 

"Tom,"  said  Mr.  Farnsworth  later,  as  the  three 
walked  in  to  dinner,  "we  are  now  the  guests  of  an 
heiress,"  —  waving  his  hand  toward  Kitty  —  "Miss 
Bellinger.  This  house  and  premises  belong  to  her, 
and  she  could  turn  us  out  into  the  road  tonight  if  she 
chose.  She  recently  inherited  this  entire  estate,  with 
eleven  thousand  dollars  in  cash,  from  an  old  hermit 
who  became  much  attached  to  her." 

"Sh  -  sh  -  h,    you   shouldn't   speak   so   irreverently 

213 


CHAPTER  TWENTY 

when  the  poor  old  man  is  scarcely  cold  in  his  grave," 
she  said. 

"Pardon  me,  Kitty;  I  meant  no  disrespect,  I  assure 
you." 

Then  addressing  Tom,  he  continued,  —  "By  the 
most  singular  coincidence,  the  old  gentleman  who 
owned  this  place  was  formerly  a  partner  of  your  grand 
father  Benson  in  the  mining  business." 

At  the  mention  of  the  name  a  scowl  came  over  Tom's 
face,  —  "In  that  case  I'm  surprised  that  he  had  this 
place  and  eleven  thousand  dollars  left  to  give  away." 

The  father  went  on  to  relate  the  circumstances 
which  brought  them  into  occupancy  of  the  Haunted 
Caves,  wondering  the  while  what  Tom  knew  that 
would  cause  his  remark. 

"I  should  think,"  said  Tom,  "that  the  name  of  the 
place  would  insure  you  against  intrusion  of  either 
friends  or  foes." 

"But  you'd  be  surprised,"  said  his  father,  "to  know 
how  quickly  Miss  Bellinger  charmed  all  the  ghosts 
away.  Although  the  place  has  been  infested  with 
them  for  upwards  of  twenty  years,  we  haven't  seen  one 
since  she  came  here." 

Glancing  at  Tom  she  said,  "Perhaps  you  are  already 
aware  that  your  father  is  not  always  to  be  taken  seri 
ously  in  what  he  says." 

Late  that  night  when  Tom  had  retired  to  his  room, 
he  sat  for  some  time  in  a  brown  study. 

214 


THINGS  LOOK  SUSPICIOUS  TO  TOM 

"Well  what  d'you  think  of  that?"  he  mused;  "Dad 
is  supposed  to  be  dead,  and  here  he  is  out  here  having 
the  time  of  his  life  —  living  like  a  prince  —  in  clover 
clear  up  to  his  ears.  He's  a  long  ways  from  being  a 
dead  one.  I'll  bet  he's  had  more  fun  in  the  past  few 
weeks  than  he  had  in  the  whole  of  the  past  nineteen 
years. 

"But  that  girl!  — How  she  did  fool  Sid!  — She's  a 
smooth  one  all  right.  —  I'd  never  have  thought  it  of 
her !  Mother  wasn't  so  far  wrong  after  all.  I  wonder 
what  she  thinks  now ! 

"Well,  it's  all  right,  I  guess.  I  don't  blame  him  a 
particle  —  I'd  do  the  same  thing  if  a  woman  ever  gave 
me  the  frost  he  got  at  home.  He  ought  to  write  a 
story  now.  Wouldn't  it  be  a  corker,  though!  He 
could  tell  a  tale  that  would  bring  some  of  those  society 
people  to  their  feet.  I'll  bet  there'd  be  a  lot  of  married 
men  committing  suicide  in  less'n  a  week  if  they  thought 
they  could  fall  into  a  nest  like  this." 

Next  morning  Tom  drove  to  town  with  his  father, 
but  remained  only  a  short  time  and  rode  back  with  the 
coachman.  When  he  arrived  at  the  house  he  found 
Kitty  out  in  the  yard  with  the  gardener  overseeing  the 
work  of  caring  for  the  shrubbery.  As  he  approached 
her  she  appeared  shy  and  not  much  inclined  to  talk. 
Finally,  after  moving  away  from  the  gardener  she  man 
aged  to  say,  "Mr.  Farnsworth,  I  don't  know  what  you 
think  —  you  must  have  formed  a  poor  opinion  of  me." 

215 


CHAPTER  TWENTY 

He  blushed  and  stammered  like  a  schoolboy,  and 
tried  to  say  something,  but  his  tongue  seemed  tied  and 
he  was  at  a  loss  to  know  how  to  answer  her.  "I  don't 
blame  either  of  you,"  he  managed  to  say  at  length. 

She  stood  behind  a  bush  heedlessly  plucking  the 
leaves  and  tearing  them  into  little  bits.  —  "I  really 
wouldn't  have  done  it  for  anyone  else  in  all  the  world;" 
she  said  —  "he  was  so  good  to  me.  But  really  he  needed 
the  money,  or  I  shouldn't  have  drawn  it.  I'm  so  glad 
now  that  I  am  able  to  pay  it  back." 

Tom  looked  up  in  surprise.       "Oh,  the  money,  - 
please  don't  ever  mention  that  again.     I  wish  it  had 
been  fifty  times  as  much.     Besides,  it  belonged  to  him 
anyway." 

"I'm  glad  you  feel  that  way  about  it,  for  I've  felt 
terribly  guilty  ever  since  I  took  it.  You  must  have 
thought  me  very  ungrateful;  but  now  that  you  know 
all,  you  see  why  I  did  it." 

"Yes,"  said  Tom,  "but  I  never  felt  that  way  about  it. 
I  suspected  all  along  that  you  had  found  father.  It 
was  not  the  money  that  concerned  me,  —  it  was  your 
welfare,  and  his." 

Tom  edged  around  nearer  to  where  she  stood. 

"You  seem  to  exert  a  great  influence  over  Mr.  Shel 
don,"  he  said.  She  flushed  instantly  and  looked  down. 

"Mr.  Sheldon  has  been  very  kind  to  us,"  she  said 
slowly,  but  she  avoided  saying  anything  further  about 
him,  and  adroitly  changed  the  subject. 

216 


THINGS  LOOK  SUSPICIOUS  TO  TOM 

"She's  as  deep  as  a  well,"  he  thought. 

For  a  time  Tom  felt  a  little  ill  at  ease  with  her,  but 
his  embarrassment  soon  wore  off  as  their  conversation 
turned  to  riding,  driving,  theatres  and  other  congenial 
pastimes.  At  luncheon  while  discussing  the  latest 
plays  she  asked  if  he  had  ever  heard  of  an  actress  by 
the  name  of  Belle  Villaire.  No,  the  name  was  not 
familiar  to  him. 

"Someone  you  know?"  he  asked. 

"Yes,  my  half  sister  —  my  mother's  daughter  by 
her  first  husband,  who  died  a  couple  of  years  after  she 
married  him." 

"Then  you  have  relatives  living?"  he  said. 

"She  is  the  only  near  relation  I  know  of.  I  never 
saw  my  sister  but  twice  that  I  recall,  after  I  was  five 
years  old.  When  she  was  seventeen  she  left  boarding 
school  and  went  on  the  stage.  Mother  was  much 
opposed  to  it,  and  they  had  a  falling  out.  My  sister 
afterward  went  abroad  and  I  believe  she  appeared  in 
some  minor  part  on  the  London  stage.  Later  she 
made  quite  a  success  and  returned  to  this  country  for 
a  short  time,  but  she  would  never  play  in  New  York  on 
mother's  account.  My  mother  had  a  strong  prejudice 
against  the  stage,  and  she  never  quite  forgave  my 
sister  for  her  choice  of  that  calling." 

"Then  you  have  no  idea  where  your  sister  is?"  he 
asked. 

"No,  I  have  neither  seen  nor  heard  of  her  for  several 

217 


CHAPTER  TWENTY 

years.  The  last  we  knew  of  her  she  was  married  to  a 
Frenchman,  and  living  somewhere  in  Italy." 

"Does  she  look  like  you?" 

"I  couldn't  say;  but  I  should  think  not,  because  I 
remember  the  papers  often  spoke  of  her  as  a  famous 
beauty." 

"You  are  very  modest,"  he  remarked.  "This 
appears  to  clear  up  a  mystery  that  has  puzzled  me 
somewhat  of  late." 

"Oh,  tell  me  about  it,  I  love  mysteries,"  she  said 
with  eager  interest. 

"Well,  two  weeks  or  so  before  I  left  home,  about  the 
stunningest  looking  creature  I  ever  saw  came  into  my 
office  and  inquired  if  I  knew  where  Miss  Bellinger 
could  be  found.  Said  she  heard  that  you  knew  my 
father.  She  was  dressed  all  in  black,  and  looked  so 
much  like  you  that  at  first  I  thought  you  were  playing 
some  joke  on  me.  But  then  I  saw  that  she  was  older 
than  you  —  about  twenty-five,  I  should  say.  She 
left  her  card,  with  her  address  written  on  it  and  was 
very  anxious  that  I  notify  her  if  I  heard  anything  from 
you.  But  the  name  on  the  card  was  Desroches,  or 
something  like  that,  if  I  remember  rightly.  She  was 
stopping  at  some  hotel  in  New  York.  I  should  have 
asked  her  if  she  was  a  relative  of  yours,  but  I  was  so 
almighty  flustered  for  a  minute  that  I  never  thought  of 
it  until  after  she  had  gone.  Then  I  wanted  to  kick 
myself." 

218 


THINGS  LOOK  SUSPICIOUS  TO  TOM 

"Oh,  do  you  suppose  you  could  find  that  card?"  she 
asked,  "I  know  it  must  be  my  sister  Belle." 

"Yes,  the  card  is  in  my  desk,  and  I'll  write  her,  if 
you  say,  as  soon  as  I  get  home." 

"I  should  be  so  much  obliged  if  you  would  —  I 
wonder  if  she  is  still  there  —  I  hope  she  is.  She's 
probably  just  learned  of  mother's  death,  and  gone  in 
mourning  for  her." 

"What  a  little  world  we  live  in!"  remarked  Tom. 
"I've  spent  so  much  time  unraveling  mysteries  of  late 
that  if  ever  I  get  hard  up  I  believe  I  could  qualify  as  a 
private  detective  —  " 

"And  let  me  be  your  first  assistant,"  she  added  with 
a  laugh. 

"My  assistant!  My  manager,  you  mean.  Here 
I've  had  a  standing  reward  for  weeks,  and  you've  out 
done  all  the  detectives  in  the  country.  That  reminds 
me  —  I  must  wire  and  have  that  reward  withdrawn." 

"Yes,  but  you  have  even  outdone  me,"  she  replied 
with  a  laugh. 

"Not  until  you  slackened  your  vigilance,  though. 
You  frightened  my  detective  out  of  his  wits,  and  out  of 
town,  too  —  without  his  luggage.  He  was  glad  to 
escape  with  his  life."  They  both  laughed. 

"I  always  thought  Sid  had  pretty  good  taste,"  said 
Tom,  "until  he  refused  your  proposal  of  marriage." 

"You  think  you  wouldn't  be  so  easily  frightened?" 

"Well,  you'd  better  not  try  it  on  me." 

219 


CHAPTER  TWENTY 

"No,  I'm  not  crazy  now,  you  know." 

"Thank  you.  I  guess  if  Sid  heard  that  he'd  have 
the  laugh  on  me.  When  he  told  me  you  insisted  on 
marrying  him  I  thoughtlessly  remarked  that  you 
surely  must  have  been  crazy." 

"My  remark,  like  yours,"  she  said,  "sounded  much 
worse  than  intended." 

In  the  afternoon  they  drove  to  town  for  Mr. 
Farnsworth. 

"That  girl  is  certainly  a  puzzle,"  mused  Tom  as  he 
sat  in  his  room  that  night  thinking  over  what  Kitty 
had  said  during  the  day.  "Sheldon  is  head  over  ears  in 
love  with  her  and  I'll  bet  she  won't  marry  him  for  fear 
of  hurting  father's  feelings." 

Upon  finding  Kitty  and  his  father  together  he  formed 
his  own  hasty  conclusions;  but  after  talking  with 
Kitty  he  entirely  changed  his  opinion.  Her  modesty 
and  innocent  ways  quite  disarmed  him  of  suspicion. 

"Father,"  said  Tom  one  evening  when  they  were 
alone  on  the  front  veranda,  "how  long  before  you  are 
coming  back  to  New  York?" 

"Never,  —  I'm  afraid,  Tom." 

"Why,  you  don't  intend  to  continue  here  on  a  salary 
and  neglect  your  business  there,  do  you?" 

"Yes,  Tom,  I  have  all  the  funds  I  need  now,  —  my 
salary  and  the  income  from  a  thousand  shares  of  stock 
are  quite  enough  to  satisfy  my  modest  requirements." 

"Father,  the  firm  owns  a  lot  of  the  Sheldon  Mining 

220 


THINGS  LOOK  SUSPICIOUS  TO  TOM 

stock,  —  why  don't  you  take  that?  I'll  arrange  with 
Burleigh  to  turn  it  over  to  me.  That  really  belongs  to 
you,  and  I  hate  to  see  mother  get  any  of  it." 

"No,  Tom,  you  keep  it  in  the  firm,  and  if  ever  I  need 
it  I'll  let  you  know.  Now,  about  your  mother,  - 
when  she  gets  her  divorce,  —  I  have  arranged  with  Mr. 
Sheldon  to  advance  the  money  to  pay  off  her  interest 
in  the  business,  so  it  will  cause  the  firm  no  incon 
venience.  It  will  be  paid  over  to  her  when  the  court 
determines  the  amount.  You  will  keep  a  close  eye  on 
the  proceedings  and  keep  me  advised.  If  she  tries  to 
take  any  advantage  of  you,  let  me  know  at  once." 

While  on  the  train  returning  to  New  York  a  few 
days  later,  Tom  tried  in  vain  to  puzzle  out  his  mother's 
strange  actions,  and  why  she  had  said  nothing  to  him 
about  having  discovered  his  father.  In  order  to  avoid 
an  embarrassing  situation  in  the  household  he  wond 
ered  if  it  was  not  best  to  make  a  clean  breast  of  matters 
and  tell  her  where  he  had  been.  But  the  note  from 
his  mother  that  awaited  him  at  home  rendered  any 
explanation  unnecessary, 


221 


CHAPTER  XXI 
THE  NEWCOMERS 

A  few  days  after  Tom  left  Colorado  Springs,  Madam 
Desroches,  with  her  little  seven-year-old  daughter 
arrived  there,  and  on  reaching  the  Haunted  Caves  in 
the  afternoon,  they  found  Kitty  dressed  in  her  riding 
habit  ready  to  leave  the  house.  Upon  meeting  her 
sister  and  her  heretofore  unknown  niece  she  broke  into 
a  volley  of  joyous  exclamations  and  alternately  hugged 
them  both  until  unbidden  they  sat  down  from  sheer 
exhaustion. 

"Oh,  sister  Belle!"  she  said  at  length,  "I  must  tell 
you  all  about  my  foster  uncle." 

While  little  Constance  was  in  charge  of  her  maid, 
Kitty  told  briefly  how  she  first  came  to  know  Mr. 
Farnsworth,  and  related  the  tragic  story  of  the  past 
few  weeks. 

"Kitty,"  said  Belle  as  she  embraced  and  kissed  her 
affectionately,  "you  are  a  perfect  darling;  and  I'm 
proud  to  be  your  sister.  I  couldn't  have  believed  all 
this  if  I  hadn't  heard  it  from  your  own  lips." 

In  her  turn  she  told  Kitty  of  her  marriage  to  a 
Frenchman,  after  which  she  had  left  the  stage  and 
settled  in  Paris.  "A  few  years  later,"  she  said,  "while 
we  were  in  Bombay  my  husband  was  taken  ill  and  died 
suddenly,  leaving  me  in  possession  of  an  ample  income. 

222 


THE  NEWCOMERS 

I  returned  to  Paris  and  wrote  to  mother  telling  her  of 
rny  sorrow  and  loneliness,  and  begged  her  forgiveness, 
hoping  to  return  to  my  own  home  and  country." 

When  Mr.  Farnsworth  arrived  home  in  the  after 
noon  Kitty  came  tripping  out  on  the  veranda,  dragging 
Belle  along  with  one  arm  around  her  waist. 

"Uncle,  our  family  has  doubled  since  morning. 
This  is  my  lovely  sister  I've  been  telling  you  so  much 
about,"  she  said  as  she  introduced  them. 

"If  she  is  as  much  like  you  in  other  ways  as  she  is 
in  looks,  our  household  promises  to  excite  the  envy  of 
the  gods,"  he  said  as  he  stood  looking  from  one  to  the 
other,  astonished  at  their  likeness. 

"Belle,"  she  said,  turning  to  her  sister,  "I  forgot  to 
tell  you  that  uncle  is  much  given  to  good  natured 
flattery  since  he  came  out  here." 

"Now,  why  do  you  impress  your  sister  with  my  in 
sincerity,  Kitty,  when  I  was  never  more  in  earnest  in 
all  my  life?" 

"I'm  sure,"  said  Belle,  coming  to  his  assistance,  "it 
must  be  your  presence  that  frustrates  my  sister  and 
causes  her  to  contradict  herself,  for  she's  talked  cease 
lessly  of  you  and  your  admirable  qualities  ever  since  I 
came.  I  am  really  quite  relieved  to  find  that  you  have 
at  least  a  single  human  frailty." 

Just  as  he  was  about  to  answer,  his  speech  was  cut 
short  by  little  Constance  who  came  rushing  out  the 
front  door,  exclaiming  in  French,— 

223 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-ONE 

"Oo,  mamma,  I've  found  a  nest  of  the  cunningest 
kittens!"  as  she  held  up  a  little  ball  of  fur,  while  her 
eyes  danced  and  sparkled  with  raptures  of  delight. 

"Whose  sweet  child  are  you?"  asked  Mr.  Farnsworth 
in  broken  French.  She  stopped  suddenly  and  looked 
at  him  in  surprise,  then  inquiringly  at  her  mother. 

"Answer  the  gentleman,  in  English,  and  tell  him 
who  you  are;  then  make  your  apology,  like  a  little 
dear,  for  interrupting  our  conversation." 

"My  name  is  Constance  Desroches,"  she  said 
sweetly,  with  a  slight  French  accent,  as  she  courtesied 
gracefully.  "Please  sir,  excuse  me;  I  didn't  know 
there  was  a  gentleman  out  here." 

If  Mr.  Farnsworth  was  delighted  at  meeting  Belle, 
he  was  charmed,  ecstatic,  at  the  discovery  of  her  little 
girl.  He  had  always  lamented  the  fact  that  he  had  no 
daughter,  and  often  said  he  wished  he  had  a  house  full 
of  little  girls. 

He  was  so  completely  lost  in  dreams  of  happiness  in 
his  augmented  household  that  there  appeared  to  be 
nothing  further  to  be  desired,  especially  when  a  little 
later  Kitty  drew  him  aside  and  told  him  that  the  guests 
had  come  to  stay  indefinitely.  For  some  singular 
reason  —  he  could  not  tell  just  why  —  on  hearing  this 
bit  of  welcome  news  he  suddenly  thought  of  his  wife, 
and  earnestly  hoped  that  nothing  would  intervene  to 
cause  delay  in  the  granting  of  her  divorce. 

That  night  before  retiring  Kitty  went  to  her  sister's 

224 


THE   NEWCOMERS 

room,  which  connected  with  her  own,  and  as  they  were 
seated  together,  clad  in  their  lounging  robes  with  their 
hair  flowing  loosely  over  their  shoulders  it  made  a 
picture  worthy  of  an  artist's  dream.  Indeed  the  old 
hermit  had  remarked  that  "When  God  made  Kitty  the 
walls  of  heaven  must  have  resounded  with  the  praises 
of  the  angels."  In  her  sister  he  would  have  discov 
ered  the  exact  model  after  which  she  was  made,  except 
that  Kitty  had  blue  eyes  and  dark  hair,  while  her  sister 
had  large  brown  eyes  and  dark  chestnut  hair.  Al 
though  a  little  over  thirty  she  appeared  much  younger ; 
and  when  her  lips  parted  in  a  smile  they  disclosed  two 
even  rows  of  beautiful  white  teeth  which  almost 
provoked  a  suspicion  that  they  had  been  made  to  order. 
Once  when  a  newspaper  reporter  who  had  interviewed 
her  attempted  to  describe  her  beauty,  he  lamented  that 
words  were  "as  inadequate  in  portraying  her  surpass 
ing  charms  as  they  would  be  in  describing  a  beautiful 
melody,  or  the  delicate  blush  and  fragrance  of  a 
rose." 

The  two  women  talked  over  incidents  of  their  past 
lives  and  of  their  parents  who  had  passed  away.  At 
length  Belle  asked  Kitty  if  she  had  ever  heard  of  a  Mr. 
Sheldon,  of  Colorado  Springs. 

"Have  I  ever  heard  of  him!  Why,  he  is  our  best 
friend  here.  He  owns  a  large  interest  in  the  great 
mining  company  of  which  uncle  is  president.  And 
besides,  he  owns  the  bank,  the  opera  house,  a  large 

225 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-ONE 

hotel,  and  I  should  think  nearly  everything  else  in  the 
town  that's  worth  owning." 

"Are  his  parents  still  living?"  she  inquired. 

"No,  they  are  both  dead.  His  father  died  within  the 
past  few  months." 

"Kitty,  can  you  keep  a  secret?" 

"Did  you  ever  know  a  woman  who  couldn't?"  she 
asked. 

"Very  well  then:  about  thirteen  years  ago,  while  I 
was  playing  in  Boston,  I  was  given  a  reception  at  a 
private  home  on  Beacon  Street,  and  there  I  met  this 
Mr.  Sheldon,  then  a  young  man  attending  Harvard. 
It  appeared  like  a  case  of  mutual  admiration  from  the 
start,  and  when  I  went  to  Philadelphia  he  followed  a 
few  days  later  and  spent  a  week  there.  Then  he  spent 
several  days  in  Chicago  while  I  was  there,  and  six 
months  later  we  were  engaged." 

"Engaged!  How  romantic!  Just  think  of  il !" 
exclaimed  Kitty.  "Does  he  know  you're  here?" 

"No,  he  knows  nothing  about  it.  Shortly  after  we 
became  engaged  he  went  home  for  the  summer  vaca 
tion,  and  a  few  days  later  I  received  a  letter  from  his 
father  saying  that  his  son  was  still  under  legal  age, 
and  he  absolutely  refused  to  permit  him  to  marry  an 
actress.  He  begged  me  to  give  him  up  and  forget  him. 
Said  he  would  disinherit  his  son  and  do  all  sorts  of 
things  if  he  married  me. 

"I  wrote  William  two  letters — but  received  no  reply. 

226 


THE   NEWCOMERS 

So  I  concluded  that  his  parents  had  persuaded  him  to 
give  me  up,  and  that  summer  I  went  abroad.  Three 
years  later  I  married  a  Frenchman  in  Paris,  and  when 
little  Constance  was  born,  I  left  the  stage  for  good.  From 
the  time  William  bade  me  good-by  and  went  home,  until 
this  day  I  have  never  seen  or  heard  a  word  from  him." 

"And  did  you  really  and  truly  love  him,  Belle?" 

"I  thought  so  at  the  time,  but  I  was  young  and  I  - 
I  suppose  he  has  forgotten  all  about  me,  long  ago." 

"No,  he  hasn't,  for  when  he  first  saw  me  he  started 
up  in  surprise  as  if  I  reminded  him  of  someone  —  it 
was  you  he  had  in  mind.  I  see  now  why  he  fell  in 
love  with  —  Say,  Belle,  can  you  keep  a  secret?" 

"It's  no  secret,  Kitty,  dear;  it's  written  all  over 
your  face.  He's  in  love  with  you,  isn't  he,  dear?" 

"How  absurd!"  she  said  blushingly.  "It's  your 
image  that  he  is  in  love  with." 

"Come,  now,  Kitty,  don't  try  to  deceive  your  sister 
Belle.  You  know  —  and  I  know  —  he  loves  you." 

"Yes,  but  it's  because  he  thinks  I  look  like  you,"  she 
said  poutingly. 

"It's  no  such  thing;  he  adores  you,  as  any  man 
might  be  proud  to  do,  for  your  own  dear  sweet  self 
alone.  And  you  are  in  love  with  him?" 

"Yes,  I'm  afraid  I  am." 

"And  when  are  you  to  be  married?" 

"I  don't  know;  that  is,  I  haven't  given  him  my 
answer  yet." 

227 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-ONE 

"Oh,  Kitty,  dear!  I  could  just  hug  you  to  death;" 
and  suiting  the  action  to  her  words  she  threw  her  arms 
about  Kitty's  neck  and  squeezed  and  kissed  her 
repeatedly. 

"Then  you  are  not  cross  with  me,  Belle?" 

"Cross  with  you?  Why  no  I  I  am  delighted  — 
overjoyed.  Oh,  it's  too  good  to  be  true !  But  tell  me, 
Kitty,  how  could  you  ever  fall  in  love  with  anyone  else 
while  you  have  that  adorable  uncle  of  yours?" 

"Why,  Belle!  He  would  never  think  of  marrying 
me!" 

"But  you  said  that  he  had  arranged  for  his  wife  to 
get  a  divorce." 

"Yes,  but  he'd  never  dream  of  such  a  thing  as  marry 
ing  his  niece;  and  he  has  always  treated  me  as  he 
would  his  own  niece." 

"Then  what  will  he  do  without  you  when  you  marry?" 

"I  don't  know  —  that's  what  bothers  me,"  she  said. 
"I'm  so  afraid  he  will  miss  me,  and  that's  why  I 
haven't  given  Mr.  Sheldon  my  answer  yet.  Uncle  is 
such  a  perfectly  dear  man,  and  he's  had  so  many  dis 
appointments  that  I  wouldn't  do  anything  to  make 
him  lonesome,  or  hurt  his  feelings,  no  matter  if  I  were 
in  love  with  a  dozen  men. 

"Oh,  Belle,  he  was  so  good  and  kind  to  me  in  New 
York.  I  was  in  the  most  desperate  condition;  and  I 
don't  know  what  would  have  become  of  me  if  he 
hadn't  helped  me." 

228 


THE  NEWCOMERS 

"Yes,  but  see  how  generously  you  have  repaid  his 
kindness!  Just  think  of  your  having  saved  his  life!" 
Then  after  a  moment's  pause,  "Now,  for  the  present, 
Kitty,  let's  say  nothing  about  my  personal  affairs  to 
Mr.  Sheldon,  further  than  to  tell  him  I  am  here  from 
Paris,  visiting  you  with  my  little  daughter.  Then 
there'll  be  no  need  of  any  explanations.  See?" 

"Y  -  e  -  s,  Belle,  I  see ;  but  if  it  is  you  that  he  really 
loves,  I  must  give  him  up.  I  couldn't  think  of  blight 
ing  his  happiness  with  the  woman  he  loves." 

"No,  no,  Kitty,  I'm  sure  he  doesn't  care  for  me. 
Moreover,  I've  outgrown  every  particle  of  interest  I 
ever  had  in  him  —  honest,  I  have.  And  Kitty,  let  me 
prove  it  to  you  —  but  don't  breathe  this  to  a  living 
soul,"  she  said  as  she  lowered  her  voice  and  glanced 
cautiously  around  the  room,  —  "I've  got  my  eye  on 
another  man !" 

The  playful  twinkle  in  Belle's  eye  was  unobserved 
by  Kitty. 

Next  day  Kitty  left  Belle  with  her  maid  unpacking 
her  trunks,  while  she  went  in  town.  She  called  Mr. 
Sheldon  on  the  'phone. 

"I  have  someone  visiting  me,  and  I  want  you  to 
come  out  to  dinner  tonight ;  but  on  condition  that  you 
promise  me  on  your  honor  that  you  won't  fall  in  love 
with  her.  .  .  .  What?  You  won't  promise?  .  .  . 
But  I  told  you  I  would  give  my  answer  soon ;  and  you 
simply  can't  come  unless  you  promise.  .  .  .  Then 

229 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-ONE 

you  do?  Good!  But  you  mustn't  even  look  at  her, 
except  with  my  permission.  And,  listen!  Just  wear 
your  plain  business  clothes  —  don't  bother  to  doll 
yourself  up  any  —  do  you  hear?  .  .  .  Yes,  just  home 
folks,  you  know.  Goodby!"  Hanging  up  the  re 
ceiver,  she  meditated  for  a  moment. 

"I'll  just  bring  them  together  and  put  him  to  the 
test;  then  if  he  wavers,  I  shall  know  he  doesn't  love 
me.  It  will  be  better  to  learn  the  truth  now  before  it's 
too  late." 

Kitty's  apprehensions  were  all  dispelled  that  night 
when  on  taking  his  leave  Mr.  Sheldon  asked  her  to 
walk  out  in  the  garden  with  him.  Taking  both  her 
hands  in  his  he  said,  - 

"Kitty,  your  sister  has  told  you  of  the  past?" 

"Yes." 

"I  really  adored  her  in  all  sincerity ;  but  now  — 
now!"  as  he  clasped  her  in  his  arms  —  "you  are  my 
true  love !" 


230 


CHAPTER  XXII 
THE  PRICE  OF  A  FRENCH  COUNT 

When  Mrs.  Farnsworth  returned  from  the  West  she 
did  not  act  at  once  upon  her  husband's  advice  to  apply 
for  a  divorce;  but  she  made  preparations  for  an  im 
mediate  departure  for  Europe.  The  inhospitable 
atmosphere  of  New  York  was  no  longer  tolerable,  and 
she  was  anxious  to  be  off  where  she  could  see  no  one 
who  knew  her. 

In  her  hurriedly  scribbled  good-by  note  to  Tom  she 
gave  no  intimation  of  why  she  had  left  so  suddenly,  or 
when  she  would  return.  Shortly  after  reaching  Paris 
she  wrote  him  a  long  letter  about  the  journey,  and  an 
old  acquaintance  she  had  found  living  in  Paris.  She 
was  quite  cheerful  in  the  Paris  atmosphere,  and  said 
she  would  probably  remain  in  France  for  some  time. 

Through  her  friend  in  Paris  she  met  the  Comte  de  la 
Plage,  who  manifested  a  deep  interest  in  her  upon 
learning  that  she  was  a  rich  American  widow.  She 
felt  much  flattered  by  his  marked  attentions,  and 
though  she  prudently  avoided  being  seen  with  him  in 
public,  on  several  occasions  they  lunched  together  in 
private.  On  leaving  Paris  after  several  weeks'  stay, 
she  complied  with  his  urgent  request  for  her  itinerary. 

Joining  a  party  of  American  tourists  she  journeyed 
leisurely  through  Italy,  arriving  in  due  time  at  Florence, 

231 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-TWO 

where  she  was  to  remain  several  days.  On  reaching 
her  hotel  she  was  much  chagrined  at  finding  no  word 
from  the  Count ;  but  arriving  at  Rome  a  few  days  later 
she  found  him  awaiting  her.  Important  business 
made  his  presence  necessary  there,  he  said,  and  by 
coming  when  he  did  he  found  it  possible  to  break  the 
dull  monotony  of  business  by  anticipating  the  pleasure 
of  surprising  her.  He  had  gone  before  her  in  order 
that  he  might  finish  his  business  and  be  at  leisure  on 
her  arrival. 

Seeing  no  one  they  knew,  they  spent  much  time  in 
each  other's  company,  driving  and  sight-seeing.  In 
discussing  affairs  of  the  heart  he  told  her  that  the 
frivolity  of  the  French  women  distressed  him.  The 
American  women,  he  had  observed,  made  the  best 
wives,  and  if  ever  he  decided  to  marry,  he  would 
probably  choose  an  American  woman  to  grace  his  castle. 

When  they  had  been  in  Rome  a  few  days  the  Count 
read  her  a  letter  purporting  to  be  from  his  private 
secretary  at  his  chateau  in  the  south  of  France,  saying 
that  fire  originating  in  the  basement  had  damaged  the 
floor  of  the  grand  ball  room,  but  the  paintings  and  new 
fresco  work  were  unharmed.  He  told  her  that  his 
chateau  was  closed  for  a  few  months,  undergoing  some 
minor  repairs,  but  it  would  be  open  again  in  the  spring, 
and  he  hoped  that  she  would  remain  until  then  and 
make  one  of  the  house  party  at  the  opening,  when  she 
would  meet  the  American  Ambassador  and  several  dis- 

232 


THE  PRICE   OF  A  FRENCH   COUNT 

tinguished  guests  from  her  own  country.  She  de 
clined  the  invitation  on  the  plea  that  she  ought  to  leave 
for  home  in  a  few  weeks,  but  possibly  she  would  return 
again  the  next  summer. 

After  a  couple  of  weeks  spent  in  Rome  the  Count 
told  Mrs.  Farnsworth  he  had  just  received  an  urgent 
message  from  his  home  government,  calling  him  to 
Paris  on  some  important  official  business.  Much  to 
her  delight,  he  said  that  this  would  probably  make  it 
necessary  that  he  go  to  America  within  a  few  weeks  on 
a  government  mission,  the  nature  of  which  would  re 
quire  that  he  travel  incognito.  His  request  for  per 
mission  to  call  on  her  at  home  was  readily  granted. 

After  leaving  Rome  Mrs.  Farnsworth's  thoughts 
were  so  taken  up  by  the  marked  attentions  that  the 
distinguished  Count  had  shown  her  that  the  places  of 
interest  throughout  the  remainder  of  her  tour  ceased 
to  have  much  attraction  for  her.  In  viewing  castles 
and  chateaux  thereafter  she  was  sure  to  wonder  if  they 
were  anything  like  the  Comte  de  la  Plage's ;  and  when 
in  art  galleries  she  scrutinized  the  works  of  the  old 
masters  she  compared  them  in  her  mind's  eye  with  the 
great  masterpieces  in  the  private  gallery  of  the  Count, 
of  which  he  had  told  her  so  much. 

"What  a  perfectly  charming  man!"  she  thought;  and 
she  even  permitted  her  thoughts  to  go  so  far  afield  as  to 
picture  herself  the  mistress  of  an  ancient  castle,  and 
contemplate  the  social  prestige  that  such  a  position 

233 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-TWO 

would  insure.  The  individuality  of  the  Count  himself 
seemed  strangely  lost  amid  these  visions.  He  was 
regarded  only  as  a  means  to  a  desired  end. 

"The  ambition  of  my  life!  the  culmination  of  my 
soul's  fondest  desire!"  she  thought.  What  exquisite 
delight  she  would  take  in  snubbing  those  people  in 
New  York  who  had  thwarted  her  social  ambitions ! 

"Think  of  it!  A  Countess!  Just  think  of  it!"  she 
mused. 

Was  he  not  marriageable?  Had  he  not  followed  her 
to  Rome,  under  the  pretext  of  some  business  engage 
ment?  Had  he  not  expressed  a  preference  for  Ameri 
can  women?  Had  he  not  asked  permission  to  call  on 
her?  Had  he  not  confided  in  her  the  state  of  his 
finances  —  that  his  chateau  and  estates  were  encum 
bered  to  the  extent  of  a  million  francs?  —  "Only  two 
hundred  thousand  dollars!  The  paintings  alone  are 
perhaps  worth  much  more  than  that!"  And  was  it 
not  reasonable  to  infer  from  all  this  that  his  intentions 
might  become  matrimonial?  She  decided  to  return 
and  apply  for  a  divorce  at  once.  By  waiting  a  year  or 
so  the  public  would  absolve  her  from  any  lack  of 
reverence  for  the  memory  of  her  husband. 

Filled  with  these  fantasies  it  is  not  strange  that  she 
became  anxious  to  get  back  home,  begin  her  divorce 
proceedings,  and  put  things  in  readiness  for  the  Count's 
visit.  The  beauty  of  it  all  was  that  he  would  appear 
there  under  an  assumed  name,  and  they  would  be 

234 


THE   PRICE   OF  A  FRENCH   COUNT 

spared  the  press  comment  that  would  inevitably  follow 
if  it  became  known  that  she  was  entertaining  a  French 
Count;  for  people  would  then  spring  to  the  popular 
conclusion  that  he  was  paying  her  court  merely  for 
her  reputed  wealth. 

"How  absurd !"  she  reasoned  —  "He's  so  gallant ; 
and  besides,  he's  not  that  kind  of  a  man !" 

When  Mrs.  Farnsworth  returned  to  New  York,  she 
found  that  in  her  absence  Tom  had  closed  the  house 
and  was  living  at  his  club.  She  had  the  house  ren 
ovated  from  the  basement  to  the  roof,  and  bought  a 
number  of  new  articles  such  as  costly  rugs  and  bric-a- 
brac.  Tom  was  moved  to  inquire  if  she  was  preparing 
for  "the  return  of  the  Prodigal  Son." 

"No,  Tom,  but  I  am  expecting  to  receive  the  Comte 
de  la  Plage,  whom  I  met  while  abroad.  I  hope  you'll 
like  him." 

"Oh,  a  French  Count,  eh?  Some  broken-down  off 
shoot  of  the  aristocracy,  I  suppose,  that's  looking  for  a 
little  ready  money.  Well,  all  I've  got  to  say  is  that 
he's  welcome  to  all  he  gets  out  of  you,  mother.  If  he 
can  beat  you  at  the  game  of  love  and  finance  he'd  find 
Monte  Carlo  an  easy  proposition." 

"You  shouldn't  speak  that  way,  Tom ;  he  is  a  gentle 
man  of  noble  birth  and  large  estate." 

"Oh,  yes,  that's  what  they  all  say  —  that's  a  part  of 
their  business.  How  much  does  he  ask  for  himself? 
Has  he  set  the  price?" 

235 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-TWO 

"I'll  have  you  to  know,  he's  not  for  sale,"  she  replied 
sharply. 

"Then  what's  he  coming  over  here  for?  Is  he  going 
to  give  himself  up  for  nothing?" 

"He's  coming  on  business  for  the  French  govern 
ment.  He  has  a  beautiful  chateau  —  one  of  the  oldest 
in  France  —  with  a  private  art  gallery  and  a  grand 
ball  room.  It  is  a  large  estate,  and  it  has  been  in  the 
family  for  generations  and  generations  back.  You 
are  prejudiced  Tom,  and  when  he  comes  I  suppose 
you'll  disgrace  me  by  being  uncivil  to  him,"  she  said 
poutingly. 

"No,  mother,  you  may  depend  upon  me  —  I  was 
only  joking.  You  mustn't  take  me  seriously  in  every 
thing  I  say.  Have  you  applied  for  your  divorce  yet?" 

She  started  as  if  stung  by  a  wasp.  —  "How  did  you 
know  I  had  applied  for  a  divorce?  It  is  to  be  a  private 
hearing." 

He  didn't  know  it,  and  he  had  forgotten  for  the 
moment  that  he  was  not  supposed  to  know  about  it. 

"Oh,  I  supposed  of  course  you'd  have  to  go  through 
some  sort  of  legal  proceedings, — not  knowing  for  sure 
whether  father  is  dead  or  not."  Pretending  some 
important  engagement  that  he  just  remembered,  Tom 
was  glad  to  make  his  escape. 

When  he  got  off  by  himself  he  began  to  think  matters 
over  seriously.  "Well,  what  d'you  think  of  that? 
She  goes  abroad  and  lands  a  Count  at  the  first  cast  of 

236 


THE  PRICE   OF  A  FRENCH   COUNT 

the  hook.  Just  what  she's  been  longing  for  all  these 
years,  I'll  bet.  Between  her  with  her  French  Count 
and  father  out  there  with  Kitty,  if  the  newspaper  re 
porters  got  hold  of  the  facts  we'd  have  a  family  write- 
up  that  would  give  people  something  to  talk  about  for 
months." 

He  wondered  again  if  after  all  it  wouldn't  be  best  to 
tell  her  that  he  knew  his  father  was  alive.  He  finally 
decided,  however,  to  wait  until  the  Count  came  and 
he  would  look  him  over. 

In  a  few  weeks  the  Count  arrived  and  took  an  ex 
pensive  suite  at  a  fashionable  hotel.  He  was  received 
at  home  by  Mrs.  Farnsworth  and  introduced  to  Tom. 
He  was  tall  and  looked  to  be  a  man  in  the  neighbor 
hood  of  forty,  with  pointed  features,  dark  hair  and 
restless  eyes,  in  which  Tom  thought  he  detected  a 
sinister  expression.  He  had  a  peculiar  nervous  affec 
tion  that  caused  him  to  turn  his  head  every  little  while 
as  if  to  look  behind  him.  His  words  were  spoken 
quick  and  decisively,  and  with  a  slight  French  accent. 
A  short  moustache  and  imperial  were  his  facial  adorn 
ments,  and  he  was  attired  after  the  latest  Parisian 
fashion.  His  manner  was  for  the  most  part  easy  and 
graceful,  and  even  Tom  was  forced  to  admit  that  he 
had  every  appearance  of  a  gentleman  of  high  caste. 

His  chateau,  so  he  said,  had  long  been  a  gathering 
place  for  the  old  French  nobility,  but  he  had  grown 
tired  of  the  observance  of  strict  conventionalities  in 

237 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-TWO 

the  higher  social  life,  and  much  preferred  the  freedom 
and  cordiality  of  American  society.  In  the  Revolution 
the  vast  fortune  of  his  family  had  been  swept  away, 
and  the  beautiful  old  chateau,  with  its  lands  and  his 
good  name  were  about  all  that  were  left  him.  He  had 
photographs  of  the  buildings  and  grounds,  with  a 
private  catalogue  of  the  paintings,  which  included 
many  valuable  pieces  by  the  old  masters. 

In  discussing  the  problems  of  finance  with  Tom  he 
displayed  a  thorough  knowledge  of  banking  laws  and 
customs  both  here  and  abroad.  In  politics  and  naval 
affairs  he  was  well  versed,  and  knew  the  name  and  dis 
placement  of  every  American  man-of-war,  and  was 
conversant  with  the  strength  of  all  our  fortifications. 
Although  he  did  not  disclose  the  nature  of  his  mission 
to  this  country,  Tom  suspected  that  if  it  had  any  pur 
pose  outside  of  his  personal  interests,  it  had  something 
to  do  with  naval  matters.  During  the  three  weeks  he 
spent  in  this  country  he  ostensibly  made  several  trips 
to  Washington,  and  seemed  much  elated  each  time 
upon  his  return. 

Tom  watched  carefully  the  actions  of  his  mother 
and  the  Count,  and  became  much  alarmed  over  the 
bond  of  sympathy  that  apparently  existed  between 
them  lest  it  result  in  a  serious  attachment.  In  the 
presence  of  the  Count  his  mother  seemed  a  different 
woman  from  what  he  had  ever  known  her.  Her 
apathetic  manner  had  vanished,  and  she  appeared  as 

238 


THE   PRICE  OF   A  FRENCH   COUNT 

animated  and  carefree  as  if  she  had  never  known  a 
sorrow.  The  wardrobe  she  brought  from  abroad  con 
sisting  of  many  costly  gowns  —  the  latest  Parisian 
creations  —  outstripped  anything  he  had  ever  seen 
her  wear. 

"How  can  she  do  it?"  he  queried. 

He  was  much  relieved  when  the  Count  sailed  for 
home,  for  during  the  last  few  days  matters  were  shap 
ing  themselves  so  dangerously  near  a  climax  that  sev 
eral  times  he  had  been  on  the  point  of  telling  his  mother 
that  she  was  still  legally  attached  to  a  husband  living. 

"Mother,"  said  Tom,  the  next  day  after  the  Count's 
departure,  "I  am  at  a  loss  to  understand  your  sprightly 
manner  of  late.  Are  you  really  serious  about  this 
affair  with  the  Count?" 

"Perhaps  I  can  best  explain  by  showing  you  the  evi 
dence  of  a  little  secret,"  she  said.  Going  into  the  next 
room  she  soon  returned  with  a  pretentious  looking 
document  printed  in  French,  with  a  large  gold  seal. 

"This  may  help  you  to  a  better  understanding." 

"What's  this?"  he  asked  as  he  unfolded  the  paper 
and  gave  it  a  hurried  glance. 

"That,  Tom,"  she  said,  straightening  herself  up  with 
a  pompous  air,  "is  a  mortgage  on  the  Count's  estate, 
including  the  chateau  and  all  its  furnishings." 

Tom  exclaimed  aghast  —  "A  million  francs!" 

"Yes,"  she  replied  calmly,  "but  it  is  in  reality  only 
about  two  hundred  thousand  dollars." 

239 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-TWO 

"Only  two  hundred  thousand!  And  you  gave  him 
that  amount  of  money,  when  you  wouldn't  lend  it  to 
your  own  husband  to  save  his  life?" 

"No,  I  only  lent  it  to  him,  and  took  that  for  security. 
And  that  is  not  all  —  "  she  said  hesitatingly,  paying  no 
heed  to  the  latter  part  of  his  question  —  "But  perhaps 
I  had  better  not  tell  you  the  rest  until  later." 

She  had  said  enough.  Without  another  word  Tom 
left  the  room,  seized  his  hat  and  strode  out  on  to  the 
street,  banging  the  door  behind  him  so  that  it  shook 
the  whole  house. 

"Well,  what  d'you  think  of  that?  That  fellow  has 
come  over  here  lone-handed  and  humbugged  her  out 
of  a  cool  two  hundred  thousand,  and  then  something 
else  —  she  didn't  say  what.  I  hope  it's  nothing  more 
serious  than  a  promise  to  marry  him." 

After  fuming  about  on  the  street  for  a  while,  Tom 
returned  to  the  house  and  found  his  mother  in  the 
library  hunting  for  some  record  of  French  genealogy; 
but  none  was  to  be  found. 

"No,  mother,"  he  said,  "when  father  bought  these 
books  he  didn't  contemplate  the  need  of  such  a  work. 
You  should  have  looked  that  up  while  you  were  abroad. 
And  since  you  evidently  didn't,  the  thing  for  you  to  do 
now  is  engage  accommodations  at  some  good  com 
fortable  lunatic  asylum,  and  call  in  an  alienist  to  ex 
amine  your  head  and  find  out  what  ward  you  belong 
in." 

240 


THE  PRICE   OF  A  FRENCH   COUNT 

She  stared  at  him  helplessly.  "Do  you  really  think 
that  man  could  be  an  imposter,  Tom?" 

"Yes,  he  could  be,  but  that's  not  saying  he  is,  al 
though  the  whole  business  looks  to  me  like  a  put  up 
game.  If  he's  a  genuine  count,  he  must  be  a  cheap 
one.  The  real  ones  usually  ask  a  million  dollars  or 
more.  On  the  whole,  you  got  off  pretty  easy.  What's 
the  next  move  to  be?" 

"Why,  we  left  it  that  I  was  to  go  over  there  late  in 
May,  and  attend  a  house  party  at  his  chateau." 

"If  I  were  in  your  place,  mother,  I'd  forego  the  house 
party.  It's  bad  enough  to  lose  your  money,  but  it 
would  be  worse  to  have  those  people  laugh  at  you. 
You'd  better  send  someone  over  there  to  look  this 
fellow  up  quietly  and  see  if  he's  all  he  professes  to  be." 

"An  excellent  idea,  Tom!  That's  what  I'll  do. 
Telephone  for  a  detective  and  we'll  follow  him  right 
up." 


241 


CHAPTER  XXIII 
BLIGHTED    HOPES    OF    SOCIAL    EMINENCE 

Later  when  the  emissary  returned  from  abroad  he 
reported  that  the  Comte  de  la  Plage  occupied  no  lands 
or  chateau  in  France.  His  estate,  though  still  in  his 
name,  was  now  occupied  by  his  uncle  who  had  taken 
possession  of  it  under  foreclosure  proceedings  which 
were  pending  in  the  courts.  The  Count's  title  ap 
peared  to  be  genuine,  but  of  late  years  he  had  led  a 
riotous  life  in  Paris  and  had  squandered  all  his  property 
except  a  very  meagre  income. 

"The  government  business,"  said  the  detective, 
"which  brought  the  Comte  de  la  Plage  to  this  country 
was  merely  a  subterfuge.  I  learned  from  one  of  his 
acquaintances  that  on  meeting  and  talking  with  you  in 
Paris  he  surmised  that  you  were  much  impressed  by 
the  titled  aristocracy,  and  he  perhaps  concluded  that 
you  would  be  an  easy  victim,"  he  said  without  knowing 
she  had  already  been  made  the  victim. 

In  substance,  the  count  had  inherited  a  valuable 
estate  from  a  deceased  uncle,  as  a  result  of  which  the 
Marquis  LeBon,  another  uncle  —  a  brother  of  the  de 
ceased  —  had  been  incited  to  jealousy.  The  estate 
was  encumbered  for  upwards  of  half  a  million  francs, 
and  the  marquis  had  secretly  bought  up  the  mortgage 
and  tax  liens. 

242 


BLIGHTED   HOPES   OF   SOCIAL   EMINENCE 

While  the  Count  was  living  a  life  of  revelry  in  Paris, 
the  Marquis  LeBon  went  to  the  bankers  and  persuaded 
them  to  offer  the  Count  more  money  on  his  estate,  and 
he  had  fallen  into  the  trap  by  increasing  the  indebted 
ness  to  almost  double.  When  the  obligation  fell  due 
he  was  unable  to  meet  it,  having  lost  the  money  in 
gambling,  and  the  documents  were  so  worded  that  the 
mortgagee  could  take  possession  of  the  premises  at 
once  upon  default  of  payment.  The  Count  was  sud 
denly  brought  to  his  senses  by  finding  that  his  worst 
enemy  held  all  his  outstanding  evidence  of  indebted 
ness,  and  had  already  taken  possession  of  his  chateau 
and  estate.  He  immediately  began  casting  about  for 
some  method  of  retaliation,  by  which  he  might  recover 
his  lost  property. 

"This,"  said  Mrs.  Farnsworth,  turning  to  Tom,  who 
sat  by,  "makes  my  mortification  complete.  I  appear 
to  be  a  victim  of  circumstances." 

"A  victim  of  your  own  folly!"  thought  Tom  to 
himself. 

As  the  detective  was  leaving  he  made  a  sign  to  Tom 
indicating  that  he  wished  to  see  him  alone.  When 
they  were  outside  he  said,  - 

"Say,  your  mother  seemed  so  cut  up  that  I  didn't  tell 
her  the  whole  of  the  story.  This  Count  has  been 
married  twice.  His  first  wife  ran  away  from  him  be 
cause  he  got  drunk  and  nearly  beat  her  to  death.  She 
afterwards  died  in  Italy;  then  he  married  again,  and 

243 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-THREE 

in  less  than  a  year  his  second  wife  poisoned  herself  — 
at  least  that's  the  story.  Some  say  he  poisoned  her. 
He  was  dead  drunk  in  Paris  for  eight  weeks,  and  was 
put  in  jail  twice,  though  the  gambling  houses  managed 
to  keep  it  out  of  the  papers. 

"For  God's  sake,  tell  your  mother  not  to  lend  him  a 
cent  or  have  anything  to  do  with  him,"  said  the  de 
tective  as  they  parted. 

"My  Lord!  Wouldn't  he  make  a  fine  step-father!" 
thought  Tom  as  he  was  returning  to  the  house.  He 
said  nothing  to  his  mother  about  what  the  man  had 
told  him,  feeling  that  she  already  knew  enough.  In 
answer  to  his  suggestion  that  she  have  the  Count  pros 
ecuted  she  replied  that  already  there  had  been  enough 
trouble,  and  she  did  not  care  to  publish  her  humiliation 
to  the  world  and  give  her  erstwhile  society  friends  an 
other  chance  to  sneer  at  her;  especially  since  there 
was  but  little  hope  of  recovering  the  money. 

"And  I  must  stop  that  divorce  proceeding  at  once!" 
she  declared. 

Tom  looked  at  her,  stupefied. 

"I'd  wait  awhile,  mother,  before  withdrawing  it; 
maybe  this  fellow  isn't  as  bad  as  he's  painted.  We've 
only  heard  one  side  of  the  case.  Possibly  he  intends 
to  use  the  money  to  get  the  property  back,  if  only  just 
to  spite  his  uncle.  In  that  case  your  mortgage  will  be 
good,"  he  said,  though  he  strongly  suspected  that  al 
ready  the  Count  had  gambled  the  money  away.  She 

244 


BLIGHTED   HOPES  OF   SOCIAL   EMINENCE 

looked  at  him  curiously,  wondering  if  he  had  really 
become  interested  in  the  Count,  without  dreaming  of 
his  real  motive  in  taking  sides  with  him. 

A  few  days  later  Mrs.  Farnsworth  received  a  cable 
gram  from  the  Count  asking  her  to  suspend  judgment 
until  he  had  an  opportunity  of  explaining  matters  to  her. 

"A  very  clever  manoeuvre,"  remarked  Tom,  mo 
mentarily  forgetting  her  previous  threat  to  stop  the 
divorce.  "He  hopes  to  hold  you  off  from  prosecuting 
him  until  he  can  get  away,  out  of  reach,  or  spend  the 
money." 

On  his  return  voyage  to  France  after  procuring  a  bill 
of  exchange  for  the  money  obtained  from  Mrs.  Farns 
worth  the  Comte  de  la  Plage  fell  into  a  reverie  regarding 
his  generous  benefactor  and  the  course  he  had  pursued 
in  getting  the  money.  So  eager  had  he  been  in  accom 
plishing  his  purpose  that  he  had  for  the  moment  lost 
all  moral  sense;  but  now  that  he  had  succeeded,  his 
conscience  in  his  sober  senses  did  not  altogether  ap 
prove  of  the  methods  employed ;  particularly  since  there 
was  so  much  more  that  he  might  get  just  as  easily. 

Moreover,  if  he  refused  to  fulfill  his  marriage  agree 
ment  with  this  woman  the  affair  would  perhaps  find 
widespread  circulation  in  the  newspapers ;  he  would  be 
publicly  stigmatized,  and  would  doubtless  lose  the 
estate  besides.  It  would  only  amount  to  a  stay  of 
proceedings  for  two  years. 

245 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-THREE 

Of  even  more  weighty  consideration,  if  possible,  was 
the  thought  that  his  uncle,  after  suffering  the  humilia 
tion  now  in  store  for  him,  would  perhaps  live  to  see  the 
tables  turned,  and  it  was  not  impossible  that  he  would 
eventually  get  control  of  the  coveted  property;  for 
when  Mrs.  Farnsworth  took  it  under  the  mortgage  she 
would  have  no  use  for  it  without  the  title. 

Then,  too,  was  she  not  a  highly  attractive  woman, 
of  dignified  bearing,  and  large  means?  He  had  asked 
for  only  enough  money  to  regain  the  property,  and 
more  funds  would  be  required  to  keep  it  up.  She  had 
not  faltered  in  letting  him  have  a  million  francs,  and 
would  it  not  be  reasonable  to  suppose  that  she  would 
be  even  more  generous  if  she  became  the  mistress  of 
his  chateau?  Since  he  had  found  it  so  easy  to  get  a 
million  francs,  he  might  as  well  have  the  use  of  the 
remainder  of  her  fortune. 

Even  laying  aside  any  consideration  of  personal 
honor  it  would  be  a  wise  business  move.  It  would  in 
sure  him  an  income  adequate  to  his  demands  and  spare 
him  the  mortification  of  seeing  his  uncle  triumph  over 
his  discomfiture  later.  The  alliance  would  be  merely 
a  platonic  and  dispassionate  exchange  of  considera 
tions,  so  common  in  cases  where  aspiring  American 
heiresses  had  married  into  nobility:  her  ambition  for 
social  distinction  would  be  gratified,  and  his  pecuniary 
needs  would  be  satisfied. 

If  their  temperaments  proved  to  be  irreconcilable  it 

246 


BLIGHTED   HOPES   OF   SOCIAL   EMINENCE 

would  be  much  easier  and  more  creditable  to  get  rid  of 
her  as  he  had  done  with  the  first  two,  than  it  would  be 
to  shirk  his  responsibility  to  marry  her.  In  short, 
there  appeared  to  be  numberless  sound  reasons  why  he 
should  do  as  he  agreed,  and  no  plausible  excuse  for 
doing  as  he  had  intended. 

He  therefore  decided  that  after  repossessing  himself 
of  the  estate  he  would  confess  to  her  that  he  had  misled 
her  regarding  the  matter  of  improvements  for  which  he 
asked  the  money,  and  explain  that  the  deception  was 
resorted  to  for  fear  she  might  think  his  motives  were 
mercenary.  Sometime  after  reaching  France  he  acci 
dentally  learned  that  a  strange  person  had  been  making 
inquiry  about  him  and  his  property,  and  suspecting  it 
to  be  on  her  behalf,  and  that  she  would  discover  his 
treachery,  he  sent  the  cablegram  asking  her  to  suspend 
judgment  until  he  could  explain  matters. 

On  meeting  the  Count  in  Paris  Mrs.  Farnsworth 
coquetted  with  him  at  first,  but  when  she  saw  a  possible 
opportunity  of  gratifying  her  long  cherished  social  am 
bition  she  encouraged  his  serious  attentions.  He  took 
her  quite  by  surprise  in  making  so  abrupt  a  proposal  of 
marriage. 

She  was  now  curious  to  know  if  the  Count  really  had 
any  explanation  to  make;  but  thought  it  highly  im 
probable  that  he  had  any  intention  of  communicating 
with  her  again.  In  fact  she  was  in  no  frame  of  mind 

247 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-THREE 

to  listen  to  his  overtures  and  she  rather  hoped  that  he 
would  not  annoy  her  with  them.  The  engagement 
appeared  like  a  sham  affair,  and  it  looked  as  if  the 
Fates  were  mocking  her. 

One  afternoon  the  butler  announced  Monsieur 
Chalet,  which  she  recognized  as  the  nom  de  guerre 
assumed  by  the  Count  when  he  had  visited  her.  She 
received  him  coldly  and  listened  at  first  with  indiffer 
ent  attention  to  his  overtures ;  then  with  gradually  in 
creasing  interest  and  sympathy  as  he  graphically 
related  his  pecuniary  misfortunes  and  disappointments 
in  life. 

"I  became  the  helpless  victim  of  a  burning  passion 
for  you,"  he  said,  "and  my  love  blinded  me  to  all  sense 
of  regard  for  other  considerations."  But  his  former 
love  affairs  were  not  mentioned. 

He  declared  that  he  had  been  afraid  to  confess  the 
whole  truth  about  his  financial  difficulties  at  the  out 
set,  fearing  she  might  suspect  that  his  love  for  her 
was  not  inspired  by  the  purest  and  most  disinterested 
motives,  which  he  assured  her  was  not  the  case.  His 
love  for  her  would  not  be  lessened  in  the  least,  he  said, 
if  she  were  penniless.  What  he  wanted  was  her  sweet 
companionship  and  her  beautiful  personality  to  grace 
his  castle  and  assist  him  in  maintaining  the  traditional 
social  functions  for  which  his  family  and  the  chateau 
had  long  been  famous. 

He  knew  this  line  of  reasoning  would  please  her 

248 


BLIGHTED   HOPES  OF  SOCIAL  EMINENCE 

vanity  and  he  therefore  pictured  vividly  the  position 
she  would  occupy  among  the  exclusive  social  set. 
With  her  beauty,  wit  and  prestige  she  would  be  a  reign 
ing  society  queen,  and  he  as  her  consort  would  be  the 
envy  of  all  France.  At  this  point  his  argument  fell 
upon  receptive  ears.  She  wavered,  her  heart  palpitated 
and  again  she  fell  precipitately  into  his  suavely  con 
structed  web.  He  showed  her  the  signed  release  of 
the  mortgage  on  the  property,  and  thanked  her  pro 
fusely  for  being  the  means  of  restoring  his  family 
estate  to  him. 

Her  love,  he  said,  had  given  him  new  hope,  new  aims 
in  life,  and  inspired  him  with  nobler  motives.  If  she 
refused  to  forgive  him  for  the  deception  and  wished  her 
money  back,  he  would  sacrifice  the  ancient  abode  and 
restore  the  money,  or  turn  the  entire  property  over  to 
her ;  for  without  her  love  he  would  have  no  earthly  use 
for  the  money  or  estate,  or  even  his  own  life.  He  cast 
himself,  the  honor  of  his  family  name,  the  estate  and 
all  upon  her  mercy  and  begged  her  to  act  according  to 
the  dictates  of  her  own  heart.  If  she  refused  him  all 
was  lost ;  if  she  accepted  him  their  happiness  would  be 
complete. 

Considering  her  lonely  and  ostracised  condition,  and 
the  social  advantages  of  such  an  alliance,  she  decided 
to  reaffirm  her  promise  to  marry  him  inside  of  two 
years.  Meantime  she  would  make  preparations  to 
assume  the  social  functions  of  the  Comtesse  de  la  Plage. 

249 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-THREE 

Shortly  after  procuring  her  divorce  Mrs.  Farnsworth 
received  a  marked  copy  of  a  leading  Paris  paper,  and 
her  dreams  of  social  eminence  were  again  shattered 
when  her  eyes  fell  upon  the  following  news  item :  — 

It  is  rumored  that  the  Compte  de  la  Plage,  after  being  twice 
married,  is  contemplating  a  third  matrimonial  venture;  this 
time  with  the  rich  widow  of  a  lamented  New  York  banker,  to 
whom  he  is  said  to  be  engaged.  It  will  doubtless  be  a  union 
of  congenial  spirits.  Both  have  survived  mates  who  chose 
suicide  as  an  alternative,  and  it  will  be  interesting  to  see  which 
of  these  two  survives  the  other. 


250 


CHAPTER  XXIV 
THE  CONSOLIDATION 

During  the  eight  months  that  have  passed  since  the 
arrival  of  Belle  and  little  Constance  at  Colorado 
Springs  not  even  a  ripple  of  discord  has  crossed  the 
harmony  of  the  happy  family  quartette,  to  which  Mr. 
Sheldon  might  also  be  added,  since  outside  of  business 
hours  he  has  usually  been  counted  as  one  of  the  family 
group. 

The  responsibilities  of  the  household  were  at  first 
shared  equally  between  Kitty  and  Belle,  though  latterly 
Kitty's  time  and  thoughts  have  been  so  much  occu 
pied  by  Mr.  Sheldon  that  her  sister  assumed  almost 
entire  charge  of  the  servants.  "Were  it  not  for 
Constance  and  myself,"  she  once  said  to  Kitty,  "your 
poor  uncle  would  be  sadly  neglected."  Kitty,  who 
made  no  reply,  wondered  why  her  sister  was  always  so 
contented  to  remain  at  home  when  she  was  out 
driving  or  riding  on  pleasant  afternoons  and  evenings. 

Blue-eyed,  rosy-cheeked,  animated  little  Constance 
has  from  the  day  of  her  arrival  been  the  household 
idol,  especially  of  Mr.  Farnsworth.  Once  when  talk 
ing  with  her  mother  about  him  she  said,  — 

"Mamma,  I  like  him  —  wouldn't  it  be  lovely  if  he 
were  my  very  own  papa?"  Her  mother  turned  and 
looked  away  to  hide  her  embarrassment.  "Poor 

251 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-FOUR 

mamma-dear,  don't  feel  bad  —  I  think  he  likes  you, 
too,"  she  said  comfortingly. 

One  evening  Belle  and  Kitty  sat  chatting  in  the 
music  room  while  Mr.  Farnsworth  and  Mr.  Sheldon 
had  gone  to  enjoy  their  after-dinner  cigars. 

"Kitty,"  said  Belle,  "do  you  remember  the  time, 
before  I  came  here,  when  William  refused  to  go  into 
the  mining  consolidation  on  your  account?" 

"Yes,  Belle  —  what  about  it?" 

"Well,  of  course  he  has  already  told  you  that  the 
matter  has  been  taken  up  again,  and  the  consolidation 
is  to  take  place." 

"Yes,  he  just  told  me  this  afternoon ;  and  uncle  is  to 
be  president  of  the  Consolidated  Mining  Company." 

"Yes,"  said  Belle,  "and  more  than  that,  he's  going 
to  New  York  to  be  in  charge  of  the  head  office,  —  not 
as  Horace  Alexander,  but  as  Jefferson  Farnsworth." 

"To  New  York!  Why,  Belle,  how  did  you  learn  all 
this?" 

"While  you  were  so  occupied  with  William  out  in 
the  grove  this  afternoon  he  told  me  all  about  it," 
she  said  gleefully.  "He's  going  back  to  live  under  his 
own  name,  and  the  newspapers  in  printing  the  account 
of  his  return  will  explain  that  he  was  erroneously 
reported  to  have  committed  suicide." 

"William  didn't  tell  me  about  this!"  exclaimed 
Kitty  in  great  surprise. 

"No,  dear ;  and  there's  also  another  little  consolida- 

252 


THE   CONSOLIDATION 

tion  he  didn't  tell  you  about,"  she  said  with  a  roguish 
sparkle  in  her  eye.  You  know  Constance  is  very  fond 
of  your  uncle ;  a-  n  -  d  — " 

Her  speech  was  cut  short  by  the  startled  expression 
in  Kitty's  face  as  she  stared  with  wide  open  eyes  and 
parted  lips. 

"Why,  Belle!  you  unmitigated  rogue!  That's  why 
you've  been  so  happy  of  late,  and  so  contented  to  stay 
at  home.  And  to  think  that  this  affair  has  been  going 
on  here  for  months  right  under  my  very  nose,  and  I 
was  too  blind  to  see  it !  Why,  the  idea  of  your  coming 
here  and  robbing  me  of  my  uncle !" 

"My  dearest  Kitty,  you  must  remember  that  you 
have  no  eyes  at  all  —  except  for  William ;  and  I  might 
have  literally  carried  away  your  uncle  without  your 
missing  him.  You  know  I  never  undertook  to  rob 
you  of  him  until  you  openly  confessed  having  stolen 
my  old  sweetheart.  You  needn't  let  the  fear  of  your 
dear  uncle's  lonesomeness  stand  in  the  way  of  your  hap 
piness  any  longer.  And  if  you  haven't  set  your  wedding 
day  pretty  near  at  hand  we'll  be  off  on  our  honeymoon 
ahead  of  you,  and  you'll  be  the  lonesome  one." 

With  an  exclamation  of  joy,  Kitty  sprang  to  her  feet 
and  throwing  her  arms  about  Belle's  neck  she  hugged 
and  kissed  her  repeatedly.  At  this  juncture  the  two 
men  appeared  at  the  door  just  in  time  to  hear  Kitty 
exclaim,  - 

"Belle !  Belle !    Oh,  Belle !     I'm  so  happy !" 

253 


A     000  677  629 


